The morning light slipped over the horizon, like an assassin
sliding his stiletto between ribs. Bright violent light flowed over the
landscape of the pirate moon. The pilot of the Dread war machine wondered just
how this was possible.... across the valley the mechs of the mercenary clan the
Bad Company were assembling, a clan which years ago, he belonged to. Definitely
not a good clan, murderers, brigand and outlaws, and that was the best of them.
It shouldn’t have been possible, considering that back in the main universe
these guys were all dead. Here in the metaverse though, they lived, as did many
other dead pilots, there is something just wrong about this place.
"Ready to die traitor" the voice of the company commander,
Jubal Laredo, came through the headset.
"Well Jubal, I was there when you and these pigs died
the first time. Bring it on" the pilot known as Forge responded. No trace
of emotion in his voice. "You are on your own this time old buddy, no
cursed ranger this time". Jubal laughed in that barking dog voice of his.
Crazier than old mad mulligan, Jubal prided himself on his company of cut
throats. A dozen of his best pit fighters backing him up, and their secondary
mecha on the ridgeline surrounding the valley.
"Well old son" Forge whispered to himself
"This is certainly a sierra foxtrot." Each of Jubals men had brought
their cut throats with them. A gross of mecha arrayed against him, and they were
certainly a gross bunch of pilots. Johnny "Feather" McCord and his
partner Elton Presley, the first two men he had faced down, and killed on the
other side......but that’s jumping ahead of this backwards thing. I wonder if
Bella Tin Gray is even in this metaverse, sighing, Forge readied his loadout....
eight black rain missile launchers and a pair of deaths heads. With the
increase in the "fork" odds, he might be able to disable four enemy
mechs, that would only leave 9 to face, plus the onlookers surrounding the ridge.
Got to make sure I kill Jubal myself this time, several old school traps waited
for the Bad Company, it would have to be enough. This may be my last stand, but
I won’t go to my death alone......
In the main universe, less than a week ago, our doomed
friend sits in an open cafe meeting with his clan leader Jim Faust. "Damn,
you want to repeat that Forge? the carrier wave lost some of the boys. “Taking
a deep breath, I set into the tale, yet again. "Sure Jim, over in the
metaverse there are pilots, cloned pilots, that are dead here. The best part
being they know how they died, where they died and who killed them" "You
have proof of this of course" Jim responded. "Yes Clan Leader I
do" I tuned my carrier wave into my Captains frequency to boost the signal
and keep the others in the conversation. The other members of Slaughterhouse 5
still on assignment out near Vupa 6.
"Jim, back when I first arrived here I signed up with a
fairly disreputable clan....Jubal Laredos Black Company" "You rode
with the bad company? never pictured you for an outlaw. “Gazing down at my
minicomputer, I thought the same thing the others were. Taking a long pull off
of the mead in my stein, I looked through the holocam and began my history......
I had been on the pirate moon about a week, stashing my
seemingly broken mech in the mountains, interviewing with General Nova and
picking up a tiny red ant mecha. This is a damn weird universe that’s for sure.
I had competed in a few pit fights but had encountered zero pilots while on
patrol. I had enough money to keep my red ant running and eat twice a day, so
things were good. On my tenth day however, things changed. I was in the
clanless mess tent, eating a plate of tasteless green slush, when a pair of
obvious bullies entered the tent. Remembering the first rule, never make eye contact,
I went back to eating the slop on my plate. "Ooof gark, mon dak woe slith
darg" some guttural voice groaned as I was pushed forward. "He doesnt
like you" the uglier of the two responded. I took a quick look around the
room, muttering to myself. Bald bully asked "Looking for someone to save
you trash boy?" "No" I responded "I was looking for George Lucas,
seems I am in a Star Wars segment" "dont mess with us boy, WE ARE
DEATH MERCHANTS" Sighing softly, I stood up, smiled at bald boy and green
teeth, drew my slug thrower and shot them both in the chest twice, then once in
the head. "No, you are dead merchants." I sat back down to finish my
slop when I noticed shadows closing in all around me. looking up I saw a dozen
of the filthiest, smelliest, shaggiest pilots in the history of life. These
guys looked like the extras from a Peter Fonda movie. "Evening boys can I
help you?" I leaned back in my chair, allowing my custom-made dragon scale
vest to slip open, revealing a matched pair of coonan arms slug throwers
hanging under my arms.... along with a trio of fragmentation grenades on my
belt. Their leader’s eyes widened a bit, but he motioned his men back. He
Stepped forward and began his sales pitch. "You seem pretty well armed for
a solo pilot" my response was "The grenades are there for special purposes,
like giving a roach motel an emergency enema" "Well boy, my name is
Jubal Laredo, top pilot of the Bad Company. You just killed two of my prospects,
you can either take their place, or take a beating" "Best offer I
have had all week", and that was how I became a member of Bad Company....I
had been with them about a month, we had a few successful raids against
pirates. I picked up an Anzu and a Warhorse, sold the anzu though, made me
nauseous anytime I piloted it. The Warhorse was nice, had a good load out.
"Boy" my smelly leader called out "We just
got a sweet contract, everyone is to fall out in combat dress, meet in the
lounge in twenty minutes." All of us? that’s twenty-five scoundrels, fully
armed? that will alert the Rangers for sure. Shrugging I loaded my slug
throwers, buckled them on. dropped by short swords into their boot scabbards.
hooked a trio of fire fragmentation grenades on my belt, picked up my short-barreled
auto shotgun, Ares-10 with a 35 round mag... when you need to butcher
everything, accept no substitutes. I buckled on my dragon scale vest and went
to the lounge.
"Welcome to the room sluggard" Jubal said, a cheer
going up from the patched brothers. "Boys, we got the ultimate bounty
tonight, 100,000 niodes to eliminate Bella Tin gray!!!" another ragged
cheer from these psychopaths. A ranger, and not just any ranger, one of the top
three, and we were going to attack her with just 25 men? these guys have
flipped out for sure. "Sluggard, you bring up the rear, make sure we don’t
get ambushed." I nodded to my moronic leader and we set out of the ambush
site. it will actually take me longer to type up the details than it took to
happen. Jubal and company approached the ranger, called out their challenge and
in the blink of an eye Jubal and the first eleven were on the ground bleeding
and dying. One of the clowns near me pulled an implode grenade off his belt, as
he reached for the pin I said, "The odds are fine just the way they
are" levelling my shotgun at him, he got my point. However, one of the
others didn’t. "he’s only one guy, there’s seven of us, rush him" they
did, they died. a 10-gauge autoloader firing flechette and HE rounds makes a
mess of the human body. Glancing back the other direction, I noticed that
Ranger Gray had put the other 6 down and was looking intently at me. "Ranger"
I nodded towards her "My father always told me to respect your order, I
always have. I got no quarrel with you." "Pilot, good to hear. I was
almost out of ammo." nodding to Jubal and a few others she said, "if
they get attention soon they might make it." I walked over to the four,
and shot them all in the head. Nodded to the Ranger and calmly said. "They
didn’t make it", she tossed me a small emblem, smiled and walked away. I
went back to the company garage and over the next several weeks sold all their junk,
fought a few more pirates. I was scouted out by one of the larger factions.
"And that brothers is where I met Jim, after the second
clan war where we were placed in motley units piecemeal. Jim and a few others
of us left and went independent. The rest of the story is in our logs. “Jim
looked me up and down, finally he said, "You went against Bella Tin Gray and
lived, and got a medal from her no less?" laughing he settled back in his
chair, took a quaff of mead and said, "You really should have been a
storyteller my friend." Leaning back in my chair, I reached into my vest pocket
and produced the badge I had been given all those years ago. I flipped it over
to Jim, remembering my expression the first time I read it, seeing the same
expression now on my captains face. "Holy mother of god, this is a journeyman’s
badge....it has B-b-b-b-b-b-bella tin grays personal com number on it." "I
carry it with me always, I never forgot, I will never forget, and that my
brother brings me to the problem at hand." taking a deep breath I
continued "Jim, jubal and his lot are alive in the metaverse. Not just
that but they found me and they know what happened to them. I need you to
contact the Rangers and see if they have a faction over there. In the meantime,
I'm leaving our clan. This is my last run, I've cut loose the men in my
battalion here and my company there. Jubal and company are 150 strong, I won’t
get anyone else killed." Standing I took his hand in mine, and then hugged
him. I turned and walked away from the cafe, going off to my mecha bay to
prepare for my last run.
to be continued?