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Wolfly Games
An ''In character'' story of a contest on Arc Royal
by Tempest |
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"Hey now, watch where you swing that crane! Slapping around something with a fusion reactor in it is a bad idea, in case you civilian grease-suckers hadn't realized it!" I turned back to the customs flunky with the clipboard, pushing my finger into his face. "And you! If you aren't out of my way in thirty seconds, I'm going to start up that mech, walk it over here, and step on you."
I glanced sidewise, to Zola. She smiled and nudged Walt with her elbow. The little Steiner boy coughed briefly, his eyes coming back to the matter at hand.
The brown-haired girl that had raptly held the kid's attention just before smiled at the back of his head and returned to her work. Meanwhile, the public services goon in front of us was sweating a little. The two pairs of eyes behind me, staring him down, were doing their job.
"aa.. As long as these papers get sign…" I cut him off, going in for the throat.
"Oh, they'll get taken care of." I switched from the Drill Instructor voice to my most threatening, sinister one. Low, rough and usually enough to make first week cadets wet themselves. I capped it off with a glimmer of a smirk.
Right on cue, he cracked, stammering something totally incomprehensible. I relaxed back and waved my hand dismissively. "Have the papers sent to my rooms at the Eden. They will be filled out, in total, soon enough." I snapped my fingers and walked towards the main terminal. "Private Miller, Private Hibschman, get the bags and set up shop in our rooms. I have some business that needs attending to. The games open in an hour and a half, so be there half an hour early and in full dress. Dismissed."
I never even glanced back - I knew they would be hopping right to it. They'd better be, or I'd give them one hell of a chewing out later. Faintly, behind me, I heard a pair of "Yes, sir, Sergeant, sir!"s.
The droppad's terminal was an utter tourist trap, meant to capture any passing civilian visitors who thought that duty-free goods were the stuff of wet dreams.
I had no use for such things (nor much money, after the incredible expense of jumpship passage halfway across the Sphere), so I didn't even pause. Instead, a quick beeline to the nearby road, and after a whistle, I was in a cab.
"Driver, where would the headquarters for the Omega Cluster of Clan Wolf in Exile's Alpha Galaxy be located?" He glanced over his shoulder, a fairly long beard not quite making it around. He lowered his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose and squinted at me over the frames.
"Best bet would be the Kell Building, downtown. I couldn't say for sure."
I nodded. "Take me there. Now." The driver turned back around, mumbling something, but started the meter.
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Now I had switched places with the customs goon at the starport - it was my turn to be nervous and on-edge. I had been ushered to several offices so far, but had yet to see anybody higher ranked than a secretary. Not that I was complaining too much - the one in this room was fairly good looking. The Kells, apparently, did have taste. The buzz of an intercom grabbed my attention down to the secretary's desk. My ears must be getting old, as well as my eyes, since I couldn't make heads or tails out of the quiet noises that came out of the speaker. But, guessing the drill, I stood when the secretary did.
"You may go in now, Sergeant." I nodded, and straightened up. It wouldn't do to slouch in front of… well, whomever I was about to see. The metal door opened smoothly, only a slight grind there to alert the people inside. Point of fact, there were three there. Off to the side, sitting against the wall and under a painting resembling a splattered tomato, was my Laura. Even after these years, there was no denying that beautiful wide smile was hers. Her red hair had turned into a wondrous light bronze, but like I gave a damn. She at least had some to brag about, no doubt a jab I'd hear later on. I wonder if she had gotten into that annoying Clanner habit of not using contractions?
Someone clearing his throat brought me back to the rest of the world.
"Sergeant?" I blinked to try and clear my brain a little, and swiveled to face the other two occupants of the room. One guy was dressed in Clan Wolf battle dress, and seemed to make no bones about being a Clanner as he stood there.
The insignia, I think, was that of a Star Captain, but my actual knowledge of Clan ranks and uniforms is far from expert. I'm fairly sure he was trying to look menacing, as well. The other man was dressed more normally - civilian suit, tie, rather sharp-looking. There was a Kell Hounds insignia on the breast pocket of the suit. Calmly, the man in the suit stood up and extended his hand.
"Sergeant Major De Molay, it is a pleasure to meet you. I'm Michael O'Bannon, one of the staff for the Kell Hounds here on Arc Royal." I took the offered hand and shook it, a little weaker than I usually do. A little voice in the back of my head shouted about not showing weakness, especially in front of the Clanner.
"And this is Star Captain Vertin Tutuola, who commands the Alpha Trinary of the 4th Wolf Guards. Miss Daives is currently working for his unit." This time, I extended my hand. Tutuola had one heck of a grip, and I tried to match it.
When we released each other, he was smiling smugly, whereas I was smiling to try and disguise the fact that I was going to need an ice pack on my hand soon.
"I have heard much about you from Star Colonel Marc Ward, Sergeant Major Robert De Molay." He was speaking pretty slowly, and in a deep, clear voice. I got the distinct impression that he was speaking slower than normally to make sure I'd understand him. It was very, very tempting to punch him in the face. "I will stand in place of Star Colonel Jera Carns, to defend against your Trial of Possession for the bondsman. If you are truly as skilled as your reputation suggests, your defeat shall be a great mark upon my codex." That's what he was getting at - he was trying to get me to react, testing where I'd snap. He was doing a good job of it, too.
O'Bannon stepped in, cutting me off before I could return fire on the Wolf.
"Sergeant, aren't you participating in the Spring Games here?" I nodded, not exactly sure what his point was. "You do realize they start in half an hour, don't you?" Uh oh. I snapped a salute to the two of them, grabbed Laura's arm and made for the door.
"I'll be seeing you later, gentlemen, and we can settle this then, Captain. But we've got some games to get to, so good day."
Tutuola sputtered a bit, but that was drowned out by Laura and O'Bannon both saying "We?" I stopped just inside the door, and grinned widely at my Laura.
"The Team competitions are up first, you know. And I only brought the two cadets, so I need one more person to fill out the lance. I hadn't anticipated arriving quite this late, so I had Laura registered as part of our group for the Spring Games." I flashed that same grin at the Wolf. "It's not like I'm going to deny you your fight. I'm just borrowing my prize for a little while." Knowing when to run, I waved and hauled a surprised Laura out to the nearest cab I could find.
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"It's good to see you made it, Sergeant, sir."
"Quiet, Walt. You have the dress uniforms?"
The little blond guy tossed me two plastic-wrapped packets. I handed one to Laura. "Laura, this is Zola Miller and Walter Hibschman, the two cadets I told you I brought."
Zola piped up from the other side of the flimsy partition. "We're Privates now!"
She stepped out, smoothing her tunic down one more time. I motioned for Laura to go behind the 'wall' if she wanted some privacy as she changed. She shook her head and rapidly stripped off her shirt.
"Zee, Walt, this is Corporal Laura Daives. Be polite to her, or you won't survive to the end of the Opening Ceremonies."
"Pleased to finally meet you, m'am."
"Yo." I swung my cape on and glared at Walter as hard as I could. "M'am," he added hastily.
"How late are we?"
Zola glanced at her watch, then out into the hallway. "Tail end of the procession's thirty seconds past the door."
"Fall in!" All four of us, Laura still trying to get her boots on, tumbled out the door and rushed to catch the little parade. Directly in front of us were Hansen's Roughriders, looking rather sharp and polished, despite their name. I adjusted my hat, and rubbed my chin, noting that I hadn't gotten a chance to properly shave in three days. The hallways were well insulated - I couldn't hear the crowd or the announcers until we entered the field proper.
Bright, streaming sunlight, a huge roar of applause and a tremendous open field combined to sharply contrast the artificial narrow corridor. Above it all was the announcer, blasting out a listing of the soldiers attending the Games.
"..Northfield, rounding out the Roughrider's team. And just out of the tunnel is another set of representatives from the Federated Commonwealth, this time of a much different sort. Representing Training Garrison Ajax, the crème de la crème of FedCom's latest class of soldiers, Private Walter Hibschman and Private Zola Miller." The crowd applauded for the pair - I could see both of them blush head to toes, and there were small beads of sweat on the back of Walter's neck.
"Yes, these two young troopers are the definite underdogs in the games, but are here to prove the young vigor of the rejuvenated AFFC, already recovered from the horrendous losses of the Invasion," cut in the second announcer. "For them, it's just an honor to be here, among the best warriors of the Inner Sphere."
The first came back out, continuing along. "They're quite a pair of plucky kids - and here comes the man that brought them here! Representing the Federated…" The announcer paused for several seconds. The crowd followed suit, quieting to a slight rumble. "Federated Suns, and House Davion, of the 33rd Avalon Hussars, Sergeant Major Robert De Molay, most recently of Training Garrison Ajax, and Corporal Laura Daives, most recently a bondswoman of the 4th Wolf Guards."
The crowd applauded, but quieter, a bit confused. I could see several of the other contingents react, as well. The Lyrans all turned their heads and stared right at us, as did the Kuritans. I was ready for this - hell, this was the kind of moment I kept my old uniform around for. On the trip over, I'd spent hours mending small holes, polishing buttons and quickly replacing the pieces I had lost over the years. Every campaign ribbon I had was on my tunic, along with all the medals and patches, down to my ancient Combat Infantry badge. The cape was not quite standard issue - what I was wearing now was just a slightly modified Davion flag, strapped to my neck by a cord I ripped off of a lamp. And, of course, there was the katana on my belt. Very much not standard issue. Laura's uniform was much the same as mine, minus the cape and the sword. It had cost me a pretty penny to buy from that collector, but it was for her. Money's only money.
"The pair are working with the Ajax privates, creating a wonderful counterpoint of the old and new armies. While they are last in our parade of warriors, they are by no means the least, ladies and gentlemen! One final round of applause for all of our competitors here today!"
The procession stopped, spaced evenly around the stadium. All around us, the Arc-Royal crowd erupted into hysterical cheers. Before it even started to die down, Morgan Kell climbed the podium in the center of the field, and went into his opening speech. Other things occupied my mind as he droned on - like how a fine soldier like him has ended up a politician.
-T
and Sgt. Maj. Robert De Molay |
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