BattleTech: Marauder by Lance Scarinci

BattleTech: Marauder by Lance Scarinci

Author:Lance Scarinci
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Catalyst Game Labs
Published: 2022-08-25T05:00:00+00:00


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MERCHANT-CLASS JUMPSHIP BARRATRY

NADIR JUMP POINT

TORTUGA SYSTEM

18 MARCH 3080

“Defiance? Pretty deep in.”

Krokus wore an eye patch. Can you believe that? In an age of cybernetics, that asshole wore an eye patch. Stylized himself some kind of old Terran pirate, that one, and all he did was drive the damn ship. Proud to have not been groundside for sixty years, which meant our pirate captain hadn’t so much as taken candy from a baby since the Third War.

“I know where it is,” Kevin said. “I’m telling you to cut our travel time as short as you can. I want to arrive at least a week before using standard routes says we should.”

Krokus sighed. “Who’re we racing?”

“It’s the Suns. I don’t want to spend any more time there than necessary. We get in fast, we get out fast.”

Kevin’s hate for the Fedrats was legendary. His past was a fog of rumor, but Twitch said he’d been a Feddie officer once, until he killed his whole general staff and made off with the ’Mech, that horrible Marauder-like thing ensconced in Bay One of our nameless Union. There was a Kevin Langstrom on some Suns most-wanted lists, but for piracy, not desertion. Still there was that hate, especially for someone he called the “Old Man.” Kevin was meaner on Suns worlds, edgier, as if waiting for a shoe to drop. We needed to be fast because the Old Man was out there somewhere, the Old Man was coming. Wasn’t fear, not exactly, but more caution than he showed on Calderon or Fronc worlds, for example. Hushed speculation about the Old Man ran in smoky barracks late at night. No answers ever surfaced, not even from Twitch, but one thing was for sure: whatever unnerved Black Kevin was to be avoided at all costs.

“I can do it,” Krokus replied. “But it means hot-charging the core. That’s not recommended in the best of times, and this ain’t exactly a new ship.”

“It’ll work,” Kevin said.

The funny thing was, nobody doubted him. He said it, thus it was so. Never mind that the Barratry was about 5,000 years old, with more holes in its jump core than a kilometer-long block of Swiss cheese. Kevin said it would work, so it would. He knew piracy well, but somehow he knew jumping better.

The trip sucked, like space travel always does. It’s so damn boring, and on ships with busted grav decks you get all kinds of sick if you don’t take care of yourself. You’ve got to exercise every day or your muscles will atrophy, and running laps in zero-g just ain’t an option. Lots of resistance weights, or lots of old-fashioned zero-g wrestling with sweaty pirates, all betting on who’ll go unconscious first. Yeah, I’ll take the weights.

And who was the entertainment? Yup, good old Eddie and his stories. Thirty, sometimes forty cullies gathered in the lounge, all hushed and wide eyed as I spun my tales. I never thought I was that good, but I guess the intelligence of your audience has a lot to do with how easy they are to keep enthralled.



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