BLUE MOUNTAINS

GILLINGHAM

FEDERATED SUNS

16:40, 8 May 3044

The early autumn rain hammered down like artillery fire, heavy and unrelenting, creating new waterfalls in the little valley’s rocky sides, running into channels worn by millennia and filling the stream to bursting. In just a few short weeks this rain would turn to snow, softening the hard edges and blocking access to all but ‘Mechs and the hardiest of vehicles. For now it was miserable and wet, the poor visibility creating a hissing barrier that shut out the outside world, creating a tiny microcosm in that sheltered place.

In that valley a figure walked, tiny compared to hardy trees that populated the valley and even more so compared to the high peaks around them, a grey rain cape smoothing their outline til they were just a ghost in the haze. They walked until another figure resolved itself, broad shouldered amongst the needled branches of the trees, a cape of its own making it difficult to spot against the green and brown even on a clear day. The two were an echo of each other, these figures, separated by scale, the watcher dwarfing the walker by many degrees.

The walker paused for a moment, looking up at the Thunderbolt, then continued on their way, musing that the inside of a cockpit would be a damn sight better than this.

Around the trees and closer to the valley walls, stepping gingerly around the spiderweb of running water, and to a place where an ancient landslip had created a concave shelter in the ancient slope. Suddenly a village appeared, the structures grey as the rocks around them and made of canvas or polymer, some only big enough to fit a single person and one or two large enough to hide a tank. There were two more of the giant figures here too, resting and waiting, crouched to their lowest point in an attempt to keep them concealed from prying eyes.

The walker looked to one of them – the more humanoid of the two – and gave it a small, knowing nod before continuing on to the biggest of the structures, pushing aside the entry flap into a pocket of soft light, close warmth, and a comforting drumbeat of rain on the canvas roof.

Elise swept off her rain cape and shook it out, hanging the square of canvas on a nearby hook, then stamping the excess mud off her boots. She pulled her copper hair from out her collar with an irritable sigh, running her fingers to pull out some of the knots. During her time in the AFFS she had always found the temporary field accommodations nigh unbearable, but they were positively palatial compared to what she needed to make do with now. Strangely, she didn’t mind it.

Walters was there, along with a couple of the squad leaders frowning over a map of Tibshelf and the surrounding wilderness, pins and notes stuck to points of interest, crowded in by boxes of supplies and equipment despite the space. Ronnie was with them, the fact she was still wearing a cooling vest evidence enough she had just returned from a recon mission, let alone the restless, energised pacing she always did after having just got out of the cockpit. Her customised Locust never stayed still when she was piloting it and she seemed to struggle with the concept in her birth body too.

“–and there were a few of them down near the old wind farms too, just picking around it you know, not really looking for anything in particular, though no ‘Mechs, but I did see a couple of Wasps from a distance when I tried to sneak closer to the town and when I – oh hey Elise! – went by Monty’s place they left a wire trap across the road and mined the lawn I think so I stayed in the trees and continued the route, but oh yeah when I went to the town I tried to get a good look but the rain had set in by that point and I couldn’t see anything without getting closer so I didn’t want to risk them catching my scent…” She paused to take a deep breath, having completely emptied her lungs with that last torrent of verbiage. “…sorry.”

Walters frowned, the young captain rubbing the bridge of their nose and then their tired eyes. They hadn’t done an awful lot of sleeping since the pirates took control of Tibshelf nearly three weeks ago. None of them had, really.

“Ok, first of all sit down – that’s an order,” they said. Ronnie plonked herself down on a nearby fold-out stool, no longer in motion though a foot still bounced. Walters continued, “Did you manage to get the transmission out to Arrow Town?”

Ronnie nodded energetically. Conventional communications would give away their position, so they had to make do with sending the little scout ‘Mech out once a week to fire off a tight-beam transmission to the Militia relay station between Tibshelf and the nearest town. They hadn’t yet received anything back. They were isolated, without support, but not without hope. The longer they could keep this up, the less damage the pirates could do outside of this area and greater the chance they had of someone bringing help.

“Good,” Walters echoed the nod. “Get some rest for God’s sake, you won’t die if you stay still for five minutes.”

“Might,” Ronnie flashed a cheeky smile and waved a louche salute, taking off at a run before the captain could shout at her.

Walters shook their head and watched the young woman go before turning to Elise and gesturing her over.

“How’s Team C doing?”

“Soaked, miserable, but still alert enough,” Elise reported, very much feeling their pain. The squad of infantry keeping watch at the mouth of the valley was easier to hide than a BattleMech or a vehicle. They were the early warning system for if the pirates stumbled across their temporary base, given instructions to report then retreat. It was a difficult job – if a crucial one – and only rotating them between the four squads every six hours gave any respite. In the meantime it was up to people like Elise – the de facto “officers” of the force – to check on them every once in a while.

On foot.

In the rain.

At least she didn’t have to stay there. She was pretty sure she had water in her boots.

“Can’t ask them for much more,” Walters grimaced. The captain got out of the job by saying their prosthetic leg found the terrain difficult, a claim Elise found dubious considering what she had seen them run over, but she didn’t want to be the one to call them out on it.

She just nodded.

“Mr Goodwin still at his post?” Walters asked. With Ronnie reserved for scouting, guarding the actual base was split between Montgomery’s Thunderbolt, Elise’s Clint, and Walters’ Manticore, the shifts stretched to eight hours by virtue of being in the relative comfort of a cockpit or vehicle, even if most of the time you were stationary.

Another nod.

“Didn’t expect anything different,” Walters agreed. “What… hmm… how do you think he’s doing with all of this?”

“All of this?” Elise repeated, glancing at the other people there. Adam Everett and Aimee Petty had turned out to be competent soldiers and capable sergeants of their ad hoc squads but she didn’t really know them.

“You know… this,” Walters waved their hands vaguely. “Military life.”

Elise wouldn’t have called their patchwork band of civilians and part-time soldiers a “military” but it was the closest they were going to get.

“Well enough,” she replied. “He’s got the hang of proper piloting easy enough and can cope with a chain of command. To be honest I think he’s just happy to have something to do.”

“Yeah,” Walters nodded like that confirmed their suspicions. “You should… uh… just go get something to eat, you’re taking over watch at eighteen hundred.”

20:27

Soft red light bathed Elise, the perpetual drumbeat of the endless rain surrounding her as she leaned back in the command chair of her Clint, the world beyond lost in the darkness of the night. She had never really taken to being on guard duty, only ever having needed to do it while training and the closest she got to it as a serving officer being on call in case of an assault. Realistically, that had only ever involved card games and bawdy stories with her peers rather than staring at nothing for hours on end.

It left a lot of time for her to be alone with her thoughts and she did not like that one bit.

In the weeks since the pirate attack she had acclimatised herself to being in a cockpit again, feeling the familiar old comfort of it, but there would always be the nightmares and waking memories of her most difficult experiences. It was like she was trying to blur the lines between who she is and who she was, making them one seamless continuity again rather than two distinct states of being, separated by a hard barrier of trauma. It wasn’t an easy thing.

Even her recent tenure as a Powerman operator felt like it had happened to someone else.

She envied Ronnie her trips out, despite the increasing danger of it, because at least the young woman had something to keep her mind occupied. Sometimes she wished for an attack, if only to have something to do. In the maelstrom of combat, only then did she feel like she was truly alive, like the purpose she had been born and bred for was finally being fulfilled, two and a half decades of conditioning and training being put to use. She hated it, truly, but oh how she revelled in the feeling.

She fidgeted, hands twining and untwining, the weight of the neurohelmet on her head and shoulders becoming nearly unbearable. She needed to find something to do in these long stretches of the night. Montgomery listened to his audiobooks and at least Walters had a tank full of people to keep them company. Going steadily insane was not a healthy pastime.

A quick series of taps on the roof of the cockpit, out of synch with the rain, drew her attention back to the present. Elise frowned, removed her neurohelmet with a shiver of parasympathetic disconnection, then unsealed the hatch, standing back as rain began to pour inwards followed by a person bundled in a heavy coat clutching a bag. They sealed the hatch behind them, cutting off the outside world once more and shook off some of the excess moisture.

Elise’s frown deepened and she crossed her arms sternly.

“You know you’re not meant to be interfering in the military side of things,” she chided. “And you’ll break your neck if insist on climbing a ‘Mech in the rain.”

Anne pushed the hood from her damp hair and brandished her bag with an impish grin. “I brought snacks.”

Elise’s eyes narrowed then rolled as she sighed defeatedly, her sense of protocol bludgeoned into submission by her desire for company. Especially this company. She and Anne had become closer since the invasion, shared trauma making a shared bond, the nurse’s originally suspicious demeanour long since fallen away into one of benign mischief that poked at the sharp edges of the military types. Since she and Dr Nasir were the only healers the group had, aside from Anne’s little team of first-aiders, she was allowed a lot of leeway.

Not to say she could not be serious. Elise had never seen someone more focussed and professional when going about their work. The woman just knew when to turn it off.

As much as Elise tried to convince herself the nurse’s presence annoyed her – she talked too much – she never turned down an opportunity to spend time with her.

“Fine,” Elise said, leaning against one of the walls as Anne took off her coat and sat herself in the rumble seat behind the command chair. Elise knew she technically should still be in her chair with her neurohelmet in place but… she wouldn’t be able to see the other woman if she did. She was confident she could get strapped in, helmet on, and ready to go in a handful of seconds if need be. Old Elise would have never considered being so reckless, in this way anyway. “What have you got for me?”

Anne held up a finger and began to rummage, pulling out a couple of crinkling packets, a large thermal flask, and plastic bottle with a jaunty label.

“This is the last of when Team A raided that abandoned farm house last week,” she explained “You want the dried fruit or the nuts?”

Elise held out a hand for the fruit and took it, carefully opening so as not to spill any. It was some local thing like a redcurrant grown down on the lowlands so impossible to get this far into the mountains without shipments that had long since halted when the pirates settled in. The defenders had been keeping themselves fed through searching abandoned homes, occasional hunting, and even raiding the pirates themselves. As other sources became depleted, the third option was going to become the most likely and by far the most risky – the heavily-armed brigands were already stepping up security.

Snacks like this were a luxury they wouldn’t see for a while and Elise suspected they were from Anne’s personal allotment.

“How’re you doing?” Anne asked her, after the snacks had been depleted, passing the bottle of soda.

Elise took a drink to prolong avoiding an answer and passed it back, not looking her in the eye. Sometimes, in moments like this, she wondered if she was just a patient to the other woman; a project, something that needed fixing.

Does it need to be anything more…? She grumbled to herself.

“Fine,” she replied automatically.

Anne didn’t say anything, just raised her eyebrows, not fooled for a second.

Elise glowered.

“Better in some ways, worse in others,” she relented, fidgeting with her bootstraps.

“Still got the nightmares?” Anne asked softly.

“Always,” Elise snapped then reined it in when she saw the tension across the nurse’s jaw. It wouldn’t help either of them to take her frustrations out like this and Anne was not one to take it anyway. “Sorry… I just… They’ve gotten worse since all of this… It’s like the association is, I don’t know, dragging things up or something…”

“I get that,” Anne replied, relaxing again. “You want to talk about it?”

Elise gave her a side-eye, suspecting what she was trying to do.

“Not really,” she said tightly.

“It might he–.”

“I know it might help!” Elise clenched her fists and eyes shut. “I know… I just… I know you’re trying to help me, it’s your job, I’m just… I need to sort through this in my own brain first before I inflict it on someone else…”

She braced herself for admonishment and so was surprised to feel a gentle hand on hers.

“Elise…” Anne began. “I’m trying to help you because you’re my friend and I have the skills to do something about this pain I see in you every single day.” Without opening her eyes, Elise moved her hand so their fingers were linked. “And besides,” Anne continued more flippantly. “You saved my life twice now so I need to do something to balance the score.”

Elise gave her a look and could see how hard she was trying to keep her face neutral, the faintest hint of a smile beginning to win through. Despite her reservations, despite the cloud that surrounded her, Elise cracked into a smile of her own.

“I should get myself shot or something so you can save my life properly,” she joked.

“Not funny,” Anne replied but with smile. “Try not to do that and we can figure it out once this is all over.”

“I… like the sound of that,” Elise agreed, not daring to admit she could see no end in sight. No end that would have them walking away from this, anyway.

“Good!” Anne chirped brightly. “Now, did I ever show you the scar from when I got bit by a timber fox?”

Elise froze. “A what?”

01:52, 9 May 3044

Everything was quiet again. The rain had settled down to a gentle susurration that faded into the background, especially in someone with hearing slightly damaged by years of being near constant gunfire and explosions.

Elise was back in the chair again, neurohelmet on, lost in the comforting embrace of the link. In times like this it was important to flex and stretch, moving the ‘Mech’s body as much as your own to prevent cramps from setting in and the myomer bundles from becoming too taut. Long periods in the cockpit could be a danger and some MechWarriors took blood thinners off the books, the idea of bleeding out from a nicked artery much more preferable to that of throwing a clot and stroking out because you didn’t move your meat suit enough.

She took a sip from the flask, tipping it to get the last of the bitter liquid from within. Milk and sweeteners were an impossible luxury now so she had to make do without, the caffeinated beverage only there to keep her fuelled through the long nights. Even with it she struggled past midnight, the warmth and quiet tugging seductively at her eyelids, trying to drag her down into slumber. It wouldn’t be long before they started rationing the last of their stimulants and then she didn’t know what she’d do.

Her comms fizzed into life, picking up a transmission set to such a low setting it would barely make it past the treeline.

“Elise, this is Jamie,” Walters checked in. “I’m getting ready to mount up and take over but it seems we have a situation.”

From the sound of their voice, cautious but not yet on the edge of worry, Elise knew what they were going to say.

“Lost the nurse again?”

“Lost the nurse again,” Walters agreed.

Elise smiled for a moment. In the background, from a bundle of coats and blankets on the hard cockpit floor behind her, came the sound of gentle snoring.

“Yeah, she’s here,” she informed them.

“Oh for– I told her about this!”

“Yeah, me too,” Elise agreed, trying to at least sound exasperated. They had talked about nothing in particular until midnight, at which point Anne had given into sleep and settled down, not bothering with the comfort of her tent.

“Ok, whatever, so long as she understands the risks,” Walters gave in. “See you in a few.”

“Aye, Captain,” Elise agreed.

She cut the comms and took off her helmet, saving the power-down sequence until the Manticore took its place in the treeline and the Clint moved back towards the tents. Free to move she looked behind her chair at the slumbering form of Anne, hair spread haphazardly over her face. She secretly hoped they would be able to experience what each other’s company was like without this constant threat of violence and secretly feared that without it there would be nothing keeping them bound to each other.

Friends. That was what they were. Even if it caused them to drift apart, Elise wanted nothing more in that moment than to bring a peace back to Tibshelf and Gillingham, if only so this strange and wonderful woman could live in it.

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