Union of Independent Worlds Faction RP thread

[Cannonshop]

Grantsberg, Arluna, September 13, 3069...

The Capital was becoming a Capitol.  Debbie wouldn't have believed it two years ago during the depths of the plague.  The increased traffic, the crowding...  The air was filled with the sounds of thousands of voices, chattering, shouting, the rumble of engines,and the smells and sights of a city rebuilding itself.

the chaos was almost, but not quite, enough to be lost in-to walk anonymously.

Almost...not...quite.
 
She still wore her pistol in the open-most folks did-but now, instead of it being a matter of practical necessity due to the populaiton boom of feral animals and the despair-driven madness of the plague, it was...

she stopped and looked at a dress on display.  Fashionable?  The cascade of silks on the seamstress' mannequin was interrupted by tooled leather-a holster that held a highly-decorated, inlaid and engraved revolver-far more intricate than the Maxim-Ruger 10mm magnum Debbie herself favoured, but styled to look...

"sakes alive." she whispered.  "ah gotta do somethin' bout thet..."

and then, for some impossible to understand reason, she felt a wave of hysterical laughter rush through her, as she imagined some Noble's offspring on Tharkad wearing such a getup.

She turned from the silly-to-her looking outfit, and kept walking, letting her boots find their way to the government complex where, according to her day-planner, the Free Worlds League Ambassador would be coming for a light lunch and heavy discussion.

[Cannonshop]

[ooc: posted with Graegor's blessing...]

Boojum...

"...Mister Frehley, your paperwork is pretty much complete, You have met the children then?"  Judge Sandra Diaz asked.  The process had been gruelling-the legal forms alone tested the Adder Consul's patience many, many times. 

"I have." he said.

"Well...I do not see any reason to delay this proceeding further-advocate for Children's services?"  Diaz asked.

Corpsman Bianh Dinh Lao stood up,  "Child Protective Services finds no significant issues with Fosterage, provided the children receive adequate educational support and are not required to renounce their citizenship, Your Honour."

Diaz nodded. "Very well.  Signatures?"  Documents, this time there was only a single signature required, were presented and signed.

"Mister Frehley, You are now the designated legal guardian in absentia to these children, their safety, health, and upbringing are your sole responsibility, until the age of their Majority, their behaviour is your responsibility, should either of them get into legal trouble while in your care, you, and you alone will be accountable to discipline them, and to pay back or absorb the actual criminal consequences.  Should they be abused in your care, you will be hunted down, the children taken from you, and you will face severe punishments regardless of other citizenship or position you may hold.  Do you understand, sir?" Diaz asked.

"I do."  The Adder Consul said.

"Then, It is so-ordered by this court, that Vincent Frehley is named Sole Legal Guardian to Lan Vanh Nghien and Giao Kun Nghien, ages five and Two standard Years, for the period of twelve, and Sixteen years separately, that he and he alone is permitted to accept, extend, or apply the perogatives of their Parental figure until such time as each has reached the age of Eighteen Years, that He is personally accountable and responsible for their upbringing, education, and all sundry duties and privelages accorded to a parent for that time, and that he will be responsible for providing them each their starting 'stake' upon adulthood equivalent to what is necessary that they be productive and contributing members of society."

The gavel thumped, "So ordered. Congratulations sir, you are a father now."

[Cannonshop]

Ezra tried to hide his disdain for the contractions he heard. It seemed that the lower Caste were still somewhat more cultured than the people of the Inner Sphere.
He nodded at the explanations by the Sargeant but did not say too much. This would wait until he met the Captain. But it looked as if they knew what they were doing. At least.

Sgt. Killinger led the Clanner officer to Captain Laura Gammond.  She had that same distant/crazy stare that the Marine had, but she was clearly Army personnel, brown wool long-coat, green wool overtunic with a tie, folded atop a khaki shirt.  Her trousers were plain brown with a blue stripe.  "...Johnson, I do not give a shit what the Teamsters rep said, those trucks had better be on their way to Gordon by first light, or I swear to god I'm going to chop someone into kindling in the ring if they aren't."
Her blonde hair barely covered a recent wound, and she wore a sidearm in a cross-draw angled holster-designed for speed, not glamour, and rigged for a left-handed draw.

she looked up, and hung up the old-style handset phone  as Sgt. Killinger cleared his throat, and the Star Captain could see she had a deep, recently-healed scar that marred what had probably been pretty before she'd gotten it, running down her cheek, and (based on the way the flesh fell) ending in a notch at the base of her jaw.  it was the kind of wound that a hatchet, or tomahawk, might make.

"Star Captain." she greeted the Clan warrior, "I take it you have some concerns?"  She extended her hand to offer a handshake-it was missing fingers, and blunt, nasty-looking cut scars were visible just at the edge of the jacket's cuff.

[ooc: if the Ice Hellions have been keeping up with their Watch briefings and profiles, she's clearly been in at least one 'Arluna' style duel-and (most rare of all) lived through winning it.  Likely within the last two months, though some of the scars look older.]

[Marlin]

Ezra took the "hand" without hesitation but likely pressed a bit too hard considering her condition.  He had seen worse wounds before. Mostly on more dead people. But the Clans could have given her the missing fingers back, he supposed.

"I am indeed Star Captain Ezra, the leader of the Guard for this transport." His gaze was his usual hidden disdain for Inner Sphere people of this kind mixed with a bit of respect for her abilities, if not her fighting skills, then at least those to survive.

"I have some more questions. First: I saw the "involuntaries" being treated first. I heard they will be chipped. Question: will the volunteers be chipped as well?" He used his fingers to count. "Second: will the volunteers be separated from the criminals, if so, for what duration? Third: Command will need a summary of the processes done to the subjects up until they are "settled"." He seemed to feel obliged to add an explanation: "Based on this will be determined how many other transports will be arranged. Everything else you can add to this will likely help."

He would extend courtesies later. Perhaps. And despite having seen much, his scars were more hidden and his face showed only some age. As a Mechwarrior Phenotype, at least he was not too different to them. Must be the reason he was made the Chief for this first transport.

[Cannonshop]

Ezra took the "hand" without hesitation but likely pressed a bit too hard considering her condition.  He had seen worse wounds before. Mostly on more dead people. But the Clans could have given her the missing fingers back, he supposed.

"I am indeed Star Captain Ezra, the leader of the Guard for this transport." His gaze was his usual hidden disdain for Inner Sphere people of this kind mixed with a bit of respect for her abilities, if not her fighting skills, then at least those to survive.

"I have some more questions. First: I saw the "involuntaries" being treated first. I heard they will be chipped. Question: will the volunteers be chipped as well?" He used his fingers to count. "Second: will the volunteers be separated from the criminals, if so, for what duration? Third: Command will need a summary of the processes done to the subjects up until they are "settled"." He seemed to feel obliged to add an explanation: "Based on this will be determined how many other transports will be arranged. Everything else you can add to this will likely help."

He would extend courtesies later. Perhaps. And despite having seen much, his scars were more hidden and his face showed only some age. As a Mechwarrior Phenotype, at least he was not too different to them. Must be the reason he was made the Chief for this first transport.

"Well, Star Captain Ezra, I take it you noticed the separate processing arrangements on the pad-yeah, we separate out the crims from volunteers, we also separate out the different types of criminals-we sort 'em by skillsets, what they did, psyche profiles, and what the nerds call 'rehabilitation factors'... the less vile a criminal is, the shorter he's working to make his stake before we turn him loose, some never get turned loose, child molesters, for instance, stay on permanent Probie status isolated from general population, doing jobs we don't want honest people doing, same for homicidal maniacs...the ones that just can not control themselves, they get shot..."

She unrolled a map.  "Volunteers can pick anywhere they want to settle after they've had the survival course, or they can sign up with a job to rack up some money for better-than-issue gear.  Volunteers get radios, guns, ammo, and whatever basic necessities they need depending on what they decide to do, they also get some housing assistance getting started, and if they're out in the boonies, they get razorwire fencing and perimeter alarms.  Families with kids get home-schooling materials and a weekly visit from the Education Department's teachers.  This isn't virgin country out there, and reading is a survival skill as a result of that-we take literacy pretty seriously when there's risk of a kid 'finding' a mineshaft or some dangerous leftover that the clearing teams missed on the first sweep.  Generally if there's a car available that will make the trip to a settler's stake without breaking down, we let 'em have it-people who are mobile, can survive better than people who're stuck in one place.  I use light aircraft and frequent visits by either Military or Civil police to keep up connection between neighbours, and there is the short-wave and Telnet hookups-a family might have a fifty klik walk to the neighbours, but help is only a shout away."

"The ones that pick 'town' settlement areas, well...generally they need to find their own niche-either getting a job with one of the companies, finding a job nobody is doing that they will get paid for, or joining a clearance team as a trustie."

"Clearance teams?" he asked.

"Glad you asked about that-after the plague, a lot of household pets and wild animals suddenly experienced population booms-the worst hazards are Hogs, Dogs, and Gators.  The Hogs get up to a thousand kilos and they're both mean, and smart-they run in packs and they're a serious threat to...hell, anywhere they happen to congregate.  Dogs are, in my own opinion, worse-unlike the Hogs, dogs will kill just for shits and giggles, and the ferals have no fear of man-and they run in bigger packs than the Hogs do.  Gators are...well, they are NOT earthlife alligators, that is just the niche they fill, they are actually a kind of big amphibian, like a real big salamander, but mean and dangerous and too stupid to be afraid of anything, Gators will take a steer right off the bank and with no trouble-your average man is just a snack, and they've been known to crush motorcycles thinking they're food with a bite... Clearance teams go out and go after packs of Hogs, Dogs, and Gator infestations either before an area has been opened for volunteers, or they go after roving packs that show up in range of habitable areas-it's good honest work for people who don't have any other skills, and it teaches them skills that are probably going to be useful for the next hundered years.  Clearance teams learn how to handle everything from guns to poisons, learn tracking, skinning, cooking, and trapping, as well as basic construction and other skills that might make them attractive to an employer when their tour is up."

[GraeGor]

[ooc: posted with Graegor's blessing...]

Boojum...

"...Mister Frehley, your paperwork is pretty much complete, You have met the children then?"  Judge Sandra Diaz asked.  The process had been gruelling-the legal forms alone tested the Adder Consul's patience many, many times. 

"I have." he said.

"Well...I do not see any reason to delay this proceeding further-advocate for Children's services?"  Diaz asked.

Corpsman Bianh Dinh Lao stood up,  "Child Protective Services finds no significant issues with Fosterage, provided the children receive adequate educational support and are not required to renounce their citizenship, Your Honour."

Diaz nodded. "Very well.  Signatures?"  Documents, this time there was only a single signature required, were presented and signed.

"Mister Frehley, You are now the designated legal guardian in absentia to these children, their safety, health, and upbringing are your sole responsibility, until the age of their Majority, their behaviour is your responsibility, should either of them get into legal trouble while in your care, you, and you alone will be accountable to discipline them, and to pay back or absorb the actual criminal consequences.  Should they be abused in your care, you will be hunted down, the children taken from you, and you will face severe punishments regardless of other citizenship or position you may hold.  Do you understand, sir?" Diaz asked.

"I do."  The Adder Consul said.

"Then, It is so-ordered by this court, that Vincent Frehley is named Sole Legal Guardian to Lan Vanh Nghien and Giao Kun Nghien, ages five and Two standard Years, for the period of twelve, and Sixteen years separately, that he and he alone is permitted to accept, extend, or apply the perogatives of their Parental figure until such time as each has reached the age of Eighteen Years, that He is personally accountable and responsible for their upbringing, education, and all sundry duties and privelages accorded to a parent for that time, and that he will be responsible for providing them each their starting 'stake' upon adulthood equivalent to what is necessary that they be productive and contributing members of society."

The gavel thumped, "So ordered. Congratulations sir, you are a father now."

(ooc: will touch on this off and on in the Adder thread - http://intelser.org/forums/index.php?topic=126.msg9871#msg9871)

[Cannonshop]

Oxford on Tyne, Everglades Continent, reception centre...

"Captain's talkin' to the Clannah ship-boss."  CPO Aldous MacAfree said, "Prob'ly shouldn't disturb that meetin'."

"Jesus, chief, she's going to scare the poor bastard."  Nigel Mason was the hiring man for the Teamster's Guild, "Hope this load's got some drivers, those extra routes..."

"You can Train Drivers, I'm thinkin'." MacAfree said, "Figure he's going to ask about her after they meet?"

"No.  Clanners usually aren't that interested in people who aren't shooting at them." Mason said, "at least, that's how they were back in fifty, I don't expect the character's changed much these days.  Still, he'd probably get the creeps finding out she got those chop-scars during the plague riots, an' they just keep getting opened up..."

"Let's not tell 'em, okay? I'd rather they think our boss is a psycho maniac than think she's an object of pity." MacAfree said, "if they think she's got a quick temper an' has won a bunch of duels, they might leave well enough be, they don't need to know about Jasonville."

"Point...anyway, pass it up the chain, we're ready to roll for Gordon at noon." Mason said, "Should make her happier..."

[Cannonshop]

Camp Nevermind, Australia, 1530 Hours...

"What do you call a kid who can ride, shoot, and survive out here well enough to own two thousand hectares of ranch, and work it?" Major Dumphries asked, there was a couple kids rounding up a herd of cattle to drive north.

"I give up, Terry, what do you call 'em?" Brigadier General Frisch asked.

"You call 'em a kid." Dumphries said, "Those two out there-the boy's thirteen, the girl's just a year older, they should be in school dammit."  Dumphries said, "Not chasing two thousand kilo steers on horseback with shock-rods and rifles, and sure as hell not trying to make a living and pay taxes..."

"Plague orphans, Terry.  At least those two aren't out making trouble for the cops." Harrison said, "Fact is, Jesse's got a good head on his shoulders, and his..." he sighed, "His wife seems to have hers together too-a hell of a lot better than some of the survivors up north, anyway."

"It..it's just wrong, sir." Dumphries said, "it's just wrong."

"Isn't that why we stayed?" Frisch said speculatively, "righting some wrongs? Giving these people the chance to get their shit together without being taken over by the space-nazis or eaten by the Pirates?"

"Yeah...you're thinking of something." Frisch said.

"You know, I am.  We've got a Commissary contract coming up for the garrison, I'm thinking we might be able to...well, keep those two out of trouble and out of the poorhouse."  Frisch said, "Bloody likely could get the boy to take some extension courses, anyway, give 'em some stability."

"Kid does seem to know what he's doing with those steers." Dumphries said, "They're in good shape..."

"I think we've found a beef supplier closer than Perth, anyway." Frisch said.

[Cannonshop]

Bradshaw, Neerabup, Midnight...

Never let me go.  it was 33 degrees Celsius, too warm for  mid-night, and humid.  Thomas sat in his living room, surrounded by reminders.

It was hot, like the fevers, and he sat shivering and sweating and staring at the holo of Jane, but the tears would not come.

Two years gone.  Two years she was gone, in the ground...and he had no tears to weep with.

Thomas, where are you? it's dark down here.

He could see her, standing in the windows, from the corner of his eye-out of reach.

Always now, out of reach.

Following him.

never let go, you promised never to let me go...

He reached down, and lifted the bottle.  The bottle promised oblivion, but he knew from long experience that the promise was a lie.

He unscrewed it one-handed, and tasted the amber bitterness, the taste of the lie, the promise of a peace he would never have.

You promised me forever.

the gun tasted like cold metal.

Click!

Click!

Click!
 
The tears wouldn't come, she wouldn't leave...

You promised me forever.

"Forever."

[Cannonshop]

Satherton, Anembo, 1430 Hours...

Gunshots rang out "Everyone down on the floor, this is a robbery!"  There were three men in balaclavas with automatic weapons, and a fourth with an automatic pistol.  

"Empty the Cash draw, NOW!!"  the pistol was the leader.

Greta's headaches had gotten worse for months now.  she fumbled the till open as the customers cowered.

no... I survived the god-damn plague, my head hurts, not to-dammit day!  

He shoved over the counter with the gun, pressing it into her face.

"Hurry UP Bitch!!" his breath smelled like sweaty, rotten meat...like Philip had when she had to bury him in a fog of fevers...

Greta saw RED

She didn't know what happened next, the Police weren't saying, but when she stopped seeing red, the ambulance was here, collecting the bodies of three robbers and the living, screaming body of a fourth.

"I'll take that, ma'am..." the Constable told her, lifting the robber's pistol from her hands, "are you okay?" he asked.

"I have a headache...no, it's gone now."  she said, "What happened? I only remember him pressing the gun into my face..."

she wiped blood from her hands, on her work-dress, then realized..."oh dear, It will have to be dry-cleaned..."

The customers were looking at her in un-concealed fear now, shying away.

fingers fell out of her pocket, broken and severed and bloody and fresh...

"Ma'am, I think we need to take you to a hospital." the Constable said, "in case you were injured during the fight."

[Marlin]

"Well, Star Captain Ezra, I take it you noticed the separate processing arrangements on the pad-yeah, we separate out the crims from volunteers, we also separate out the different types of criminals-we sort 'em by skillsets, what they did, psyche profiles, and what the nerds call 'rehabilitation factors'... the less vile a criminal is, the shorter he's working to make his stake before we turn him loose, some never get turned loose, child molesters, for instance, stay on permanent Probie status isolated from general population, doing jobs we don't want honest people doing, same for homicidal maniacs...the ones that just can not control themselves, they get shot..."

She unrolled a map.  "Volunteers can pick anywhere they want to settle after they've had the survival course, or they can sign up with a job to rack up some money for better-than-issue gear.  Volunteers get radios, guns, ammo, and whatever basic necessities they need depending on what they decide to do, they also get some housing assistance getting started, and if they're out in the boonies, they get razorwire fencing and perimeter alarms.  Families with kids get home-schooling materials and a weekly visit from the Education Department's teachers.  This isn't virgin country out there, and reading is a survival skill as a result of that-we take literacy pretty seriously when there's risk of a kid 'finding' a mineshaft or some dangerous leftover that the clearing teams missed on the first sweep.  Generally if there's a car available that will make the trip to a settler's stake without breaking down, we let 'em have it-people who are mobile, can survive better than people who're stuck in one place.  I use light aircraft and frequent visits by either Military or Civil police to keep up connection between neighbours, and there is the short-wave and Telnet hookups-a family might have a fifty klik walk to the neighbours, but help is only a shout away."

"The ones that pick 'town' settlement areas, well...generally they need to find their own niche-either getting a job with one of the companies, finding a job nobody is doing that they will get paid for, or joining a clearance team as a trustie."

"Clearance teams?" he asked.

"Glad you asked about that-after the plague, a lot of household pets and wild animals suddenly experienced population booms-the worst hazards are Hogs, Dogs, and Gators.  The Hogs get up to a thousand kilos and they're both mean, and smart-they run in packs and they're a serious threat to...hell, anywhere they happen to congregate.  Dogs are, in my own opinion, worse-unlike the Hogs, dogs will kill just for shits and giggles, and the ferals have no fear of man-and they run in bigger packs than the Hogs do.  Gators are...well, they are NOT earthlife alligators, that is just the niche they fill, they are actually a kind of big amphibian, like a real big salamander, but mean and dangerous and too stupid to be afraid of anything, Gators will take a steer right off the bank and with no trouble-your average man is just a snack, and they've been known to crush motorcycles thinking they're food with a bite... Clearance teams go out and go after packs of Hogs, Dogs, and Gator infestations either before an area has been opened for volunteers, or they go after roving packs that show up in range of habitable areas-it's good honest work for people who don't have any other skills, and it teaches them skills that are probably going to be useful for the next hundered years.  Clearance teams learn how to handle everything from guns to poisons, learn tracking, skinning, cooking, and trapping, as well as basic construction and other skills that might make them attractive to an employer when their tour is up."

Ezra nodded. No smile was on his face but the questions increased in numbers:

"I assume that you agree with the report then. You did not answer my question about the chipping. I will add that we would expect the codes of the chip frequencies to be copied to us as well. I understand that the volunteers do not need to be chipped, but the Khans would like to have that to prevent movements to "liberate" their homeplanets."

He had more questions, especially about those Clearance objects but he broke off here to give her another chance. He wanted to take part in such exercise, though.. chances were slim to have a fight here and the ovKhans would certainly reprimand him for seeking such, but those animals sounded like worthy game..

[Cannonshop]

"Well, Star Captain Ezra, I take it you noticed the separate processing arrangements on the pad-yeah, we separate out the crims from volunteers, we also separate out the different types of criminals-we sort 'em by skillsets, what they did, psyche profiles, and what the nerds call 'rehabilitation factors'... the less vile a criminal is, the shorter he's working to make his stake before we turn him loose, some never get turned loose, child molesters, for instance, stay on permanent Probie status isolated from general population, doing jobs we don't want honest people doing, same for homicidal maniacs...the ones that just can not control themselves, they get shot..."

She unrolled a map.  "Volunteers can pick anywhere they want to settle after they've had the survival course, or they can sign up with a job to rack up some money for better-than-issue gear.  Volunteers get radios, guns, ammo, and whatever basic necessities they need depending on what they decide to do, they also get some housing assistance getting started, and if they're out in the boonies, they get razorwire fencing and perimeter alarms.  Families with kids get home-schooling materials and a weekly visit from the Education Department's teachers.  This isn't virgin country out there, and reading is a survival skill as a result of that-we take literacy pretty seriously when there's risk of a kid 'finding' a mineshaft or some dangerous leftover that the clearing teams missed on the first sweep.  Generally if there's a car available that will make the trip to a settler's stake without breaking down, we let 'em have it-people who are mobile, can survive better than people who're stuck in one place.  I use light aircraft and frequent visits by either Military or Civil police to keep up connection between neighbours, and there is the short-wave and Telnet hookups-a family might have a fifty klik walk to the neighbours, but help is only a shout away."

"The ones that pick 'town' settlement areas, well...generally they need to find their own niche-either getting a job with one of the companies, finding a job nobody is doing that they will get paid for, or joining a clearance team as a trustie."

"Clearance teams?" he asked.

"Glad you asked about that-after the plague, a lot of household pets and wild animals suddenly experienced population booms-the worst hazards are Hogs, Dogs, and Gators.  The Hogs get up to a thousand kilos and they're both mean, and smart-they run in packs and they're a serious threat to...hell, anywhere they happen to congregate.  Dogs are, in my own opinion, worse-unlike the Hogs, dogs will kill just for shits and giggles, and the ferals have no fear of man-and they run in bigger packs than the Hogs do.  Gators are...well, they are NOT earthlife alligators, that is just the niche they fill, they are actually a kind of big amphibian, like a real big salamander, but mean and dangerous and too stupid to be afraid of anything, Gators will take a steer right off the bank and with no trouble-your average man is just a snack, and they've been known to crush motorcycles thinking they're food with a bite... Clearance teams go out and go after packs of Hogs, Dogs, and Gator infestations either before an area has been opened for volunteers, or they go after roving packs that show up in range of habitable areas-it's good honest work for people who don't have any other skills, and it teaches them skills that are probably going to be useful for the next hundered years.  Clearance teams learn how to handle everything from guns to poisons, learn tracking, skinning, cooking, and trapping, as well as basic construction and other skills that might make them attractive to an employer when their tour is up."

Ezra nodded. No smile was on his face but the questions increased in numbers:

"I assume that you agree with the report then. You did not answer my question about the chipping. I will add that we would expect the codes of the chip frequencies to be copied to us as well. I understand that the volunteers do not need to be chipped, but the Khans would like to have that to prevent movements to "liberate" their homeplanets."

He had more questions, especially about those Clearance objects but he broke off here to give her another chance. He wanted to take part in such exercise, though.. chances were slim to have a fight here and the ovKhans would certainly reprimand him for seeking such, but those animals sounded like worthy game..

"Everyone gets chipped at first, it's useful as a locator in case someone gets into trouble out there." she explained, "speaking of that..." she reached over to her desk terminal, "Killinger, the Star Captain has just informed me he has not received the frequencies and codes for the chips, tell Langley to get her ass in gear with that, muy pronto, capische?"

she turned back to the Star Captain, "Sorry about that-you were supposed to get them as soon as the safeties showed you were clear for offload."  she said apologetically, "The pulse-codes are different between involuntaries and volunteers-they have to be, we have to keep them sorted to prevent some smart-ass from jumping a fence-line and pretending to be off probie status-those that make it off probie legitimately get a re-tune as part of the release process, those that do not...well, we like to make sure graves registration knows where to log the body."

she handed him a PADD with an open file, "That being your three primary code-pulses- Probies, Lifers, and Voluntaries." she told him, "Lifers we keep separated to avoid letting someone's serial killer prey on civilians because his files got lost, the other two are separations to note status-probies, or 'probationer applicants' get a countdown code that adjusts according to their work-files, evaluations, and time-on-duty status.  we mostly use the Voluntaries as a means to augment search-and-rescue if some new colonist finds themselves ass-deep in a bad situation and sinking, for instance if someone gets cornered by a pack of Hogs, or stranded in the mountains during a white-out, or just gets lost and needs rescue."

[Cannonshop]

Office of the Archduchess, Grantsberg, Arluna, 9 A.M. local time...

"...more reports.  an old lady tears up four gunmen in a bank-robbery-so what?" Debbie Mac asked, "It's a good thing."

"Ma'am, she ripped one man's fingers off, put them in her pocket, shot the other three, then used up the pistol's ammunition torturing the guy."  Sarah Caldwell was the Attorney General, senior prosecutor for the entire UIW. 

"So give her a medal." Debbie said.

"Not that simple, ma'am, it wasn't rational, she blacked out before she did it, doesn't remember a damned thing-now, what happens when someone else nuts out, say, instead of during a bank-robbery, they flip in the middle of a grade-school or something?"

"Can that happen?" Debra asked.

"No idea if it will, but there are reports of psychotic breaks from one end of the Union to the other-not many, mind, but the disturbing part is what they all have in common." Sarah said.

"Let me guess, they're all survivors." Debra said, "People who got sick,then got better on their own."

"Hole in one, your Grace." Sarah said, "Cases are isolated right now, a handfull of suicides here, one or two bad drunks over there, the occasional nervous breakdown here and there...but there's a common trend and it's got a lot of folks worried."

"Like the chaos after the Plague here." Debbie speculated, "River packs, that kind of thing..."

"Yeah.  We're keeping it low-visibility for now so that nobody 'enterprisingly' starts screaming cover-up, but..." Sarah looked out the window, letting it hang in the air for a moment.

"But, you and Stoneson over at State think that it might be why the Scorpions cut off contact, right?" Debra asked.

"Yeah.  They took before-and-afters and were digging into medical histories, found...something, I guess, and just went armadillo-they know something about the Plague, and I think it scared 'em."  Sarah said.

"Speculations, Sarah." Debra said, "according to the Adders, the Scorps went armadillo to the other Clans, too-might be nothing, might be a problem on THEIR end, it doesn't all revolve around US."

[Cannonshop]

Coast Guard Medical Station Elizabeth, Lower Seine, Arluna, 1200 Hours...

"...so, do you remember the fighting on Kwangchowwang?" Charlotte Dupree was a registered psychiatric nurse, "you remember why you got that medal, right?"

Pol Nguyen looked at his counselor.  "Not clearly." he said, "I remember a few parts, but..."

"But you don't remember the charge on the Star Adder position?" she asked.

"No ma'am, I don't.  I remember ordering the men to fix bayonets, we expected them to counter-attack." he said, "I remember telling the troops to hold the line..."

"but you don't remember leading the charge, and you don't recall what happened down there?" she asked.

"No ma'am..." he said.

"Well, you definitely show signs of post-traumatic stress, Leutenant, it's perfectly normal to experience nightmares and have blocked memories after heavy combat." she said, "I'm going to prescribe a mild sleep-aid, follow the directions you get at the pharmacy, and come back to see me in a couple of weeks...until then, I think we can squeeze you into the weekly group therapy sessions, if you feel the need."

[Marlin]

"Good." Ezra took the Data, looking roughly over it. "There are two more days to provide the full report, because we will be leaving then. Communication is tight, thanks to the Terran scum, but I would message that beforehand. Melissia will have some more transports on its own, so the sooner we get there, the sooner we can be back, provided leadership approves of your processing. I think you do good work here."

He now tried a smile. "I find the prospect of hunting some of your mentioned species intriguing. Is it possible to have a look at those for me and perhaps my crew? We have dropships as our bases and some weapons of our own, so it might help you too. And yes, it is below the typical warrior's duty but I think my warriors would appreciate some hunting, especially after mean creatures. And" he chuckled very slightly "we want to help accomodate our delivery as much as we can." He looked expectantly. "We could search for them at far places where you have not been yet and stay out of your AoO. But of course that is up to you or planetary command."