A BattleTech Never Tale - The Rock of Dreams - Discarded Draft

The Rock of Dreams

Mine Site 21

Smith Mining Facility 358

Lyran Alliance Commerce System # SIMPH32

Periphery

3 August 3059

            Under the bright red sun, it was looking to be a beautiful day. The periwinkle sky was bluer. The shadows from the rocks on the surrounding hills were darker. Colors seemed brighter and lines sharper in spite of the tinting in the Griffin's bubble canopy.

            Casey was excited. This mission had a full salvage clause. If things worked out right, somebody would be walking away with weapons, armor, scrap, or maybe a whole ’Mech. He intended to be that somebody.

            The motley crew of five mercenary ’Mechs topped a low rise. Not sporting a standardized paint scheme, each machine wore its own set of unique colors. First Miko's unadorned white Jenner, then Al's gray-highlighted, navy blue Warhammer and Jenn's tan and beige Crusader, followed finally by Darran's and Casey's machines.  What looked like capped canine incisors, giant and sharp, dangled from wire cables on three of the ’Mechs. Casey Putnam had one on the left shoulder baffle of his royal blue and tan Griffin. Alius Cad'ver's was on his Warhammer’s right shoulder. Jennifer Rainier's hung from the left breast of her Crusader. Darran Grimn had the nose and eye sockets from a giant lizard skull strapped tightly to the chest of his tan and brown Awesome, covering nearly the whole torso. The decoration barely budged as the Awesome trotted along at a comfortable run. Hard to imagine it was the slowest ’Mech of the bunch, its human-normal gait held the formation back.

            Across a flat stretch of barren earth, broken only by a couple of ’Mech-sized boulders, was the mine. Almost a kilometer away, it appeared as a giant hole at the base of a large rocky hill, leading into an exposed underground lake. Around the entrance stood stacks of equipment, an abandoned MiningMech, and a small shack. ‘Miko’ Rumiko Nakagami called a halt once everyone was at the edge of the flat expanse.

            "There they are," Jenn said. Her Crucis lilt, what Al called a British accent, was steady, her tone all business.

            "I don't see their lights, or their leader." Al said a second later.

            Casey verified that three of the pirates were missing. The only place they could hide was either in the mine, or behind the hill. Casey feared they would run when he reviewed the mission brief. Pirates weren't known to stick around for a fight unless they were desperate. When the aero jocks warned the pirates were fortifying, though the job to rescue the mine and facilities for Smith Interstellar became harder, it made Casey's day.

            The only two he could see were both heavies. One, an Avatar, was a ’Mech he hadn't seen before. In the briefing, he had learned that it weighed somewhere around seventy tons. It looked a lot like a Clan machine, but it was too boxy to be the Vultures he knew about. It was up on a tall ledge, taking up position behind a pile of rocks. The other was a virtual twin of Al's ’Mech, an old WHM-6R standing waist deep in the water at the mouth to the mine.

            "Have the others run to the ship?" Darran asked, his Outback drawl a wild contrast to Al's crisp enunciation.

            "Not according to our fly boy," Miko said. "There was no sign of them during his flyover.”

            Her accent was a mystery. She was lazy with her consonants, like Jenn, and it made her sound like she twisted certain vowels. In all the months he had worked with her, Casey never found out what region of space she was from. At least now he didn't have to take a few seconds to mentally translate what she said.

            "No signs of hostages. Anyone else?" Al asked. Where Casey learned to understand his compatriots, there was no misinterpreting Al. No twisting of vowels or lazy consonants with him. His voice was rare. Casey only knew of a very small handful of people that sounded anything like him.

            "I got nothing," Casey said after glancing at his sensor projections. He felt he and Al sounded almost identical. Al had begged to differ, mentioning Casey lingered over his 'u's like a German. 

            "They were probably hauled off to be sold as slaves," Jenn said quietly.

            "Attention unidentified raiders," Miko said on open frequencies. "We are mercenaries hired on behalf of Smith Interstellar Mining to retrieve their property. You have five minutes to vacate the premises and leave the system. If you do not, we will be forced to make you leave."

            "Really?" The reply was gruff and male. "I find that hard to believe." He paused and Casey heard coded chatter. The sentiment was easy to understand. They looked more like pirates than mercenaries. However, the opposition was no different, even if they didn't have skulls or claws.

            "Attention unidentified raiders," the same voice came again. "Be warned we will fight to the last. Now is your chance to turn around and head back the way you came."

            Casey's elation tickled his chest. Exactly what he wanted to hear.

            "So be it,” Miko said so calmly and smoothly that goose bumps formed across Casey’s arms, followed by a chill down his spine. "You had your chance."

            Without another word, her Jenner took off at a run. Everyone else followed suit.

            "Keep an eye out for their fast scouts," Jenn said. "This could be a trap."

            Already planning how to part out the salvage, Casey checked his emotions. He slid his throttle forward, running the Griffin a second behind everyone else. This was no time to forget tactics. Now that Jenn mentioned it, Casey became fully aware of the extra space in the water next to the enemy 6R. A band comprised of five machines, their leader rode an Atlas, and Casey imagined it could pop up at any time. Out on this open expanse, their two Locusts could run circles around all of the mercs, even the Jenner.

            The brevity of the situation hit home. Casey turned grim, certain a trap was set. They were marching right into it.

            "I got the one in the water," Al said. "The rest of you get the Avatar."

            Before anyone else could say anything, two azure beams winked into existence. For a long second, energy poured from the lower-arm barrels on Al's Warhammer into the chest and visor of its twin in the water. The enemy stumbled backward, his particle beams slicing wildly across the sky, before submerging out of sight.

            No ’Mech fired like that while it had a steady lock, even if the weapons had to discharge. It didn’t unless the cockpit was knocked out. 

            "Looks like someone made his first uncontested, confirmed kill," Casey muttered, instantly jealous.

            Part of him was proud. The other didn't want to be outdone. Taking aim, he triggered a full firing solution on the remaining target. Both the LRMs and ERPPC fired just after two of Darran’s beams and a pair of Jenn’s missile clusters. While the view outside was clouded from his own smoke, and its legs were obscured by the rock pile, the HUD painted a clear picture of the Avatar in an ‘enemy red’. It jerked and spasmed, as if trying to dodge. Portions of the blocky body went yellow, indicating good hits, but only a few, the rest of the fire ineffective. 

            Not wasting time, he triggered his big guns and activated his jets, starting toward the top of the nearest huge rock, which Miko's Jenner hid behind. As big as the stone was, it looked like it weighed far more than his Griffin. He would find out in a few seconds if that were true.

            Goosing his jets, his ’Mech landed softly on top of the boulder. Waiting a hair’s breadth, he let it stand to its full height. No tell-tale wobbles. No tremor. He was fine.

            From his perch, the tall pile of rocks no longer blocked the lower portion of the enemy. Its bird legs definitely looked like those found on either a Clan Vulture or Mad Cat. The upper body hinted strongly of Vulture. Autocannon flame spat out of its right arm, and laser beams blinked rapidly in and out of existence from the left. Then, covers on the right and left boxy torsos snapped open just before it was hidden in a cloud of missile smoke.

             Marching swiftly forward with Darran's Awesome on Casey's left, Jenn's Crusader took the brunt of the salvo, in spite of its evasive motions. Cannon munitions sparked just shy of their target, spraying it with explosive pellets. The Crud's head jerked from a hit. The armor overlay showed damage was minor, but Jenn cried out in surprise and pain.

            "It's firing cluster munitions. You sure it isn’t Clan? It looks like a Vulture," he said. "A bastardized version, anyway."

            "You really did fight the Clans," Miko commented. Her Jenner raced from its cover to the cliff below the pseudo-Vulture's feet. "It's not Clan. You were at the briefing. This is cutting edge Combine tech."

            "How did these guys get one?" Jenn asked, sounding bitter.

            In spite of Casey's lack of movement, the Avatar trained on the Crusader again. Jenn's and Darran's machines were much closer than his. It opened up first this time, but only with a concentrated burst of autocannon fire. The shots danced across many plates, the Crud twisting to deflect half of them. Thermal cues showed the ’Mech's heat signature drop drastically when its cooling system kicked in.

            "How else? They stole it," Darran replied. "They have bounties, after all."

            According to the damage overlay, it looked like the Omni took a beating from the storm of particle beams and missiles fired from the advancing mercenaries. It still could easily take much more.

            Casey triggered another solution, steadying his machine while the weapons recycled. He quickly panned his sensors for signs of the other three enemies. With no sign and a growing sense of unease, he returned his attention to the battle.

            In front, the Jenner skidded to a sudden stop very close to the steep slope. Miko fired her back jets and soared over the enemy, landing behind it. All four of her lasers lanced out, one after another, joined by the missiles from above and behind the dome of her cockpit. Then Casey's weapons fired, accompanying other particle beams and missiles. 

            The smoke hadn't even cleared before the Avatar fell to the ground. Seconds passed. A slight breeze caught the cloud and it drifted away. The enemy ’Mech didn't move. Its reactor showed signs of cooling. On the sensor diagram, its head was black.

            "What happened?" Al asked. "Is it dead?"

            "It's dead," Miko said, then muttered, "state-of-the-art."

            "Who got it?" Casey asked.

            "One of my lasers hit the head about the same time someone's PPC did. I don't know. Because it's contested, it'll be company property."

            Casey sighed lightly, annoyed and disappointed.

            "They haven't sprung their trap," Al said. "Are they running?"

            A moment of silence passed while people studied sensors and the surrounding terrain, looking for signs of the enemy. In that short span Casey jumped his Griffin down from its perch, his eyes shooting to the pool at the mouth of the mine. Finally Miko answered.

            "According to Gnuyen, their DropShip is showing signs of prepping for takeoff. But, neither he nor DeForest see any ’Mechs embarking."

            "So,” Al said. “Either, they were already on board, and this was a distraction, or-"

            "I'm picking up mag and thermals in the tunnel," Jenn said. "Two of them."

            "I'm picking up seismic," Miko said.

            "The dropper?" Casey asked.

            "No. Too light for that. It has to be their leader. It looks like he’s on the other side of the hill, to the southwest."

            "Are you sure? I'm getting the same reading," Jenn said, "but, it's to the west from me."

            "That would place it inside the hill," Darran said.

            "In the mine," Al added. "They decided to hole up in the mine."

            "Or the trap hasn't been sprung yet," Casey finished his friend's statement, his excitement returning, but mixed with a little anxiety. Intel said there was only one entrance to this excavation, and Casey couldn’t help fretting over what tricks the pirates may have up their sleeves, or the lengths they may yet go to defeat the mercs.

            Al said, "Y'know, this is starting to play out a lot like our trial run."

            His observation rang too true. The mercenaries were slowly picking an equal force apart, simply because the enemy came at them piecemeal. The pirates would most likely be defeated in detail at this rate. There was undoubtedly going to be salvage. Al’s confidence was reassuring.

            But what sent Casey's stomach twisting was what had come following the battle, nearly two years ago.

            "You mean when our contact screwed us over." Casey answered. "Let's just hope that this time doesn't play out completely the same."

            "All right. Let's form up," Miko ordered. “I’ll cover the entrance, Darran, you’re in charge of the rest.”

            "Unh uh, kid," Darran said. His Awesome cut in front of Al's Warhammer. "You got your salvage. Now it's our turn."

            Al said nothing, slowing to a stop and waiting while everyone else formed up at the edge of the water. There was only room for three to go in at a time. Jenn, Darran and Casey were the first to step in.

            Once submerged, a soft light from deep inside the tunnel made the murky water glow. To the left, large cables stretched out from the shack, hung to the rock by metallic clamps roughly every meter. Casey scanned to see if the wire was attached to anything more, but sensors came up negative.

            "Think they flooded it on purpose?" Jenn asked.

            "Probably," Casey said.

            Slowly, they waded deeper and deeper into the water. Casey paused to confirm the pirate Warhammer was dead. The head was closed, no sign of ejection or egress, and no thermal signature of a body floating or flailing in the water. Up close, his HUD painted a clear picture where a particle beam pierced the glass view port, right into the cockpit. Bubbles seeped out while the pilot’s compartment continued to flood.

            Further along, rock dipped below the surface. The tunnel was tall, but only enough for an upright ’Mech to walk through. In front of him, the tunnel narrowed to only about sixty meters wide.

            There stood two ’Mechs.

            They didn't have the chin turrets typical of their kind. His HUD tagged them LCT-1Es. The scouts. Their all-energy weapon configuration was perfect for underwater combat. In contrast, his Griffin was unable to use its missiles, nearly two-thirds of its firepower, while submerged.

            "Locusts!" Darran barked. "In confined spaces? What the hell were they thinking?"

            The two light machines strolled forward to bring their weapons to bear. Darran didn't wait. Two of his beams boiled through the water, burning across one Locust’s chest. Casey took that cue and targeted the other. 

            The Locusts never got close enough to counter. The one Darran hit managed to stay upright from the beating, but that was all it would do. Its magnetic signature quickly winked out. A HUD marker indicated a water breach, forcing the engine into an emergency shutdown.

            The other one Casey nailed in the leg with a particle beam, and it immediately dropped to the floor. It was still a threat, however. There was a chance the remaining ’Mech could get lucky and knock out a merc. It was already twisting around to prop and fire. A beam seared across the Awesome's left torso, but amounted in nothing more than a blackened surface, once the glowing armor cooled.

            All three of them fired on the downed Locust when lasers and particle cannons were primed. After that barrage, all that was left was a one-armed, one-legged, water-logged cripple. Threat no more.

            With a wave of the arm from Jenn's Crusader, the three pressed forward and Al stepped down behind them. The going was slow. Almost three hundred meters of wading before the tunnel curved back up. The light came from beyond the water, highlighting a giant humanoid shadow.

            Casey's stomach twisted when he realized that the enemy Atlas was waiting for them right at the tunnel's edge. He knew what kind of firepower it normally carried. Images of the same thing happening to them that Al did to the pirate Warhammer on the tunnel floor behind them momentarily flashed through his mind. He forcibly suppressed the thought.

            Taking a shaky breath, he calmed himself. They would be at the shallows soon enough. Through the wavy surface, he saw the silhouette that defined every Atlas Casey had ever seen: big blocky body, square legs, round head, and giant round shoulders. The finer details, like the giant skull face, appeared the closer they got.

            He had seen plenty in person, but never in a battle that might see him dead.

            "All right," Darran said. "Let's get lined up, and we'll all go up at once. Provide as many targets as possible. He can't get us all that way. Get out of the water as soon as we can. Casey! You'll have the best chance of getting completely out if you go up on the right. Al, you come up once Case's clear. Got it?"

            They all answered affirmatives.

            When they were all lined up, he said, "Ready? Now!"

            Almost in unison, Casey, Darran and Jenn started forward. Each step brought them higher out of the water. Residual flowed down Casey's canopy, blurring the view and the Atlas in front of him. While his Griffin waded up and forward, the blur washed away, leaving small drops and rivulets, and a view of a short, wide cave. The roof was so low the Atlas had to bend its knees to keep standing.

            Jets were useless.

            Without hesitation, Casey dropped cross hairs onto the large squatting form of the Atlas. Less than half a breath later, fingers tightened, triggers compressed, and battle computers refined their calculations. A few heartbeats more and his weapons fired.

            In that eternity, Casey watched as both arms on the massive assault ’Mech lifted. Ruby beams lanced out to his left. On the panoramic monitor, he saw the choppy water steam. The cannon on the right of the Atlas's waist belched flame and the sea around Darran's Awesome boiled from metal flying into it faster than falling rocks. Sparks shimmered as many of the shells impacted across the Awesome's chest and head. Pockmarks flashed into existence on the skull in explosions of bone splinters.

            Then the Griffin’s weapons fired, smoke clogging his view of the world outside. The HUD compensated with picture perfect overlays. The particle beam from his ’Mech's right arm glowed through the smoke along with three others, and a pair of lasers. Shortly after that, bright flashes from missiles exploded like firecrackers. The monster's thick plate only changed to a moderate orange from its normal enemy red.

            Casey didn't wait for the smoke to clear. Clear of the water, the Griffin broke out into a run. Moving to the right, following the wall, Casey tryed to put some distance between him and the metal monster with the face of a grinning skull. Almost as if sensing his fear, it turned, following with its glowing ceramic gaze.

            He was still too close.

            The monster fired before his Griffin did. Casey felt his ’Mech vibrate from the impacts. Warning lights flared and his Griffin stumbled. Instinctively, he thought about catching his fall with his good leg like any tripping person would do, and twisted his pedals. His ’Mech responded, maneuvering and keeping upright. Then his eyes shot back to the monster in front of him.

            Smoke poured out from the skull's eyes, their glow gone. 

            Casey blinked.

            "Holy shit," someone muttered over the frequency. It had been almost a whisper.

            Then he realized what had just happened. The heavy, armored Atlas was dead. Someone had found that one weak spot that every pilot felt could never be armored enough. Trying to heave a sigh of relief, Casey instead gulped air first. His arms and legs were still shivering. Slowly, closing his eyes, he calmed himself. Finally, sighing relief, his body relaxed.

            Time to take in the damage.

            Opening his eyes, he glanced at the diagnostics monitor, wincing at the leg damage.  Then he took in the rest of the scene. His compatriots were scarred, but all moving. Even the Awesome looked fine, relatively.

            Finally, Casey's morbid curiosity surfaced. He studied the diagram over the Atlas, dead on its feet. The head was black, from damage and virtual coloring. No functionality. The armored hull was mostly whole, no sign of ejection. On his HUD, Casey activated a small info box and read cockpit damage.

            "So, who did it? Who got in the lucky shot?"

            Nobody responded at first. Seconds passed.

            "That kid has some amazing luck, I tell you," Darran finally, quietly said.

            Casey sat back in the command couch, letting the information sink in. That was two Al nailed today, maybe three. Now that he thought about it, Al’s shots were striking more accurately. Maybe all those sim matches at home paid off. Or, could it be the new, actually rather old, targeting system? He would have to grill Al, later.

            "Any idea what they were trying to protect?" Jenn asked.

            "I don't know," Al said. "But, I'll bet it has something to do with this."

            Al's Warhammer, almost untouched from the fray, stepped past the Atlas, past a pair of man-made support pillars to the back of the cave. The entire back wall was smooth, shining in the light like a giant, cream-colored gem. In the center, from floor to ceiling, was a hole big enough for a ’Mech to walk through. Al's ’Mech stopped there. The light over its left shoulder flicked on, and pierced into the darkness like a moonbeam. It swiveled around, then up, and then down. Way down.

            "You guys might want to have a look at this."

* * *

            Casey headed over to the hole on foot, his Griffin parked far behind him in a crouch. Only halfway there, he slowed momentarily when the earth started to tremble. Looking up, he wondered if the cave was going to collapse. The tremor kept on for nearly a minute then slowly subsided. Rocks fell here and there. One almost hit Casey where he stood. That was all.

            "Tell me that was just their dropper taking off," he said to Jenn.

            She, too, strolled over on foot, along with Darran. Their ’Mechs didn't have the outboard light that Al's did, and there was no room at the hole for more than one twelve-meter-tall robot. They looked at each other, but only Casey seemed worried.

            "It has to be," Darran said, calmly.

            "Well, they could've booby trapped the entrance," Casey said, anxious. "We could be trapped.”

            "We'll find out soon enough," Darran replied. His only good eye lingered on Casey.

            "Al, is the entrance still open?" Casey called up to the Warhammer.

            "Yeah. So far," Al's voice answered, booming from external speakers.

            Nodding in relief, Casey stepped up alongside the hole. He first looked at the wall, running his chocolate brown hand along the glossy smooth surface. The cave lights shined bright enough that his dark form reflected back like from a distorted mirror. This close, he could see the light from Al's lamp through the strange material. The edges around the hole were sharp, like broken glass. It was glass, Casey realized, mixed with other forms of melted and re-hardened rock. Curious to see what was on the other side, he went to the lip...

            ...and almost lost his balance.

            Following the Warhammer's beam, Casey looked down into what looked like a perfectly round bowl. At the bottom rested a giant metal sphere. Reminding him of a super-sized metal bearing, it looked to be the size of a DropShip. However, it wasn't perfectly placed. Imbedded in the floor, cracks spider webbed the bottom of the bowl, some segments jutting up unevenly, suggesting that the ship had fallen from somewhere up high.

            "Is there an opening?" Jenn asked loudly.

            Picking up the cue, Al's light moved, following the perfect curve of the far glassy wall, all the way up to the ceiling. There was no break. The sphere of the cavern was perfectly smooth except for what lay at the bottom.

            "No sign," Al's voice boomed. "I'm not picking up anything on thermals or night vision either. But, the thing down there," his light shot back down to illuminate the orb, "is giving off a massive magnetic signature.”

            "Well, if there's no opening, how did it get here?" Casey asked.

            "Maybe it was built in there," Darran offered.

            "Not from the way it's sittin' in the bottom," Casey said.

            "And I see nothing to indicate gantries or cables or anything like that," Jenn added. She pointed to the entry hole around them. "This also looks like it's recent."

            Casey looked at the mining equipment scattered around this spot. The dozer. The MiningMech. The crane. All of it looked hastily abandoned.

            "Maybe it fell here," Darran offered.

            "And leave a sphere like this?" Jenn asked, mildly incredulous. "If it fell, it would've left an impact crater, sure. But it would've been buried with time, not open in a hole like this. It almost looks like it-"

            "It looks like it materialized here," Casey said, interrupting.

            "Like it jumped in," Jenn said. "Right in the center, then fell to the bottom."

            “Like a JumpShip.”

            "How old do you think it is?" Darran asked.

            Looking at the edge of the hole again, Casey saw the re-solidified rock and glass. It had been very cool to the touch, which meant it had been here a long time.

            "I don't know," Jenn said. "But I know I've never seen a jumper like that, especially that small."

            Casey felt uneasy. Turning away, the twisting in his guts eased up slightly. He started walking back toward his ’Mech. With each step, the uneasiness slowly faded.

            Jenn and Darran followed behind him, still speculating.

            "Do you think it could be an early probe?" Darran asked.

            "Don't know."

            “Are you sure it’s even a ship?”

            Casey tuned them out. He had an idea of what it might be. Deep down he was certain he was right. That certainty scared him. Was there something still alive in there? And, if so, how good were the chances it was friendly? Suspecting those chances were low, he didn’t want to stick around to find out.

            To take his mind off the matter, he surveyed his Griffin, looking over the damage to its leg. The Atlas had targeted him as easy prey. If Al hadn't gotten the lucky shot, Casey's machine would be in far worse shape. What he had sustained was bad enough.

             Immediately, he felt his heart turn into vacuum. There was some minor scarring from a laser beam up on its left breast. Easy fix. The leg, however, was dented and burnt all up and down the front and along the calf near the back. All from a single burst of autocannon fire. Among the damage was a giant hole just above the ankle. In this state, the armor was almost useless. The leg could move now. However, his first step into the water flooding the entrance would shut the limb down completely. His Griffin was trapped unless they could do something about that water.

            "Don't worry," Darran said, standing next to Casey and clapping him on the shoulder. "I'll give you a ride out. Jenn's Crusader has hands, so we can have her haul in some plate with your tech and something can be done about fixing up that leg. It'll be fine. You'll see."

* * *

           

            Casey was the first out of Darran's cockpit when they arrived at the makeshift star port and village. The raider DropShip was long gone, its aerial trail distorting with the wind. Miko's Jenner was already there, head hatch open. On the ground, she had her laser pistol drawn. At her feet were two soaked young men. These were the two Locust pilots which tried to fight in the flooded tunnel. One looked up and sneered at Casey and Darran when they walked over.

            "You saw it, then? Came to steal it, didn't you! I knew that bit about working for Smith Mining was just a ruse!"

            "Quiet!" Miko ordered.

            "Or what! You'll shoot me? Go ahead. That's what pirates do to people who don't cooperate, after all, isn't it?"

            Miko made to hit him, but the wet pilot shied away and shut his mouth. When she didn't do anything, he looked back up at her, confusion and mistrust evident on his dark features.

            "Wait," Casey said, confused. "Weren't you here to steal it first?"

            "No!" he said, the fire returning to his eyes. "We were hired to protect this site from raiders like you."

            "Any sign of the miners?" Al said when he strolled up.

            "None. The town's empty," Miko answered.

            "Bet you were really hoping to get hold of them," the other prisoner said with a grim laugh. He grinned up at them through his dark beard, green eyes piercing out from either side of a pointy, tanned nose. "Well, fat chance! They escaped on the company dropper. No slaves for you."

            "And without them, there's no way you'll be able to dig it out," the other said with an evil laugh.

            Casey stared at the two, stunned by what he heard and saw. He stepped up to Miko and tapped her on the shoulder. She looked at him questioningly, her Asian eyes almost squinting against the bright daylight.

            "Mind if I have a word?"

            She nodded. "Darran, keep an eye on them, will you?"

            Darran smiled. The grizzled scar on the left side of his face turned ugly, in spite of the eye-patch. "The only one I've got."

            Casey smiled at the joke.

            Unfazed, Miko holstered her weapon and strode over to one of her Jenner's legs. Casey's smile disappeared as he raced to catch up. Al followed, his gaze firmly on the prisoners for a second before turning away.

            "Hey, those guys-" he started to say.

            "Quiet," Casey hissed. To Miko he said softly, "Those guys aren't any of the ones we saw in the briefing packet."

            "I know," she said.

            That was it? What else did she know?

            "So, who are they, then?"

            "From the sounds of it, they're not pirates," Al said just as quietly. "But, they sure think we are."

            "They could still be lying," Casey offered. "Couldn't they?"

            Miko didn't say anything at first, looking back and forth at Al and Casey for a moment.

            Al turned and looked at the prisoners again, reaching up and running a hand through his sandy-brown hair.

            Casey idly mimicked him, running a hand over his shaved stubble. He looked at Miko, askance.

            "I don't know who they are," she finally said. "They could be replacements, or they could very well be what they say. We undoubtedly won't find any verification with what remains of the other three. For now, we treat them as the people we came to chase off. Lock them up when our DropShip lands, and make repairs as usual. We'll have a chance to verify their story when our contact arrives."

           

* * *

            The DropShip arrived minutes later, as Miko had predicted. The rest of the day was uneventful. Warriors rotated their ’Mechs into the dropper for maintenance. With Jenn's help, Chinn and some pre-shaped plates of armor were carried into the cave to begin work on Casey's Griffin.

            In the meantime, Casey didn't want anything to do with the inside of the cave. Instead, he and Al looked over the corrugated steel shed at the mine entrance, attempting to find some sort of pump. It was a futile search. There was no way to salvage what lay inside until the mining company returned with their equipment. According to Miko, that could be another week. Al suggested that Casey and Jenn drag it out with their ’Mechs. Darran's curt remark about excessive damage and the confirming nods from the others ended that idea.

            Casey and the others waited with little to do, until Miko found something to occupy them.

            "My tech was looking over the Avatar," she said. "He tells me there was no way for the pilot to survive, but there's no body to recover."

            "A laser or PPC won't leave much to find," Al quipped grimly.

            "But, there should have been something. Blood. Gore. Feet. Hands. There's nothing. I saw no way for the pilot to escape, and the command couch, what was left of it, was still in the wrecked cockpit." She paused. "It's possible he may still be around. I want you to search the town, and keep an eye out for anyone."

            “Exciting,” Darran drawled, bemused.

           

* * *

            Exiting a steel prefab building, Casey paused to look at the setting sun. The horizon was a taller than the dinky, uniform shelters. Rough rocky hills matched the one hiding the mine, beyond the Union at the edge of town. The periwinkle sky cast deep, dark purple shadows. 

            The bright red sun would normally have been a pleasant sight against the lavender mix. However, the feeling was lost to Casey under the stronger, perpetual sensation of being watched. It looked more like an evil eye, or a bad omen. As the darkness grew, so did his unease.

            He quickly walked to the next building. The MechWarriors had decided to identify each structure while searching. Something about knowing the terrain was how Al had justified it, which made sense. Casey still had many more to check. He didn't want to be out after dark, so he needed to hurry.

            "Beautiful sight, ain't it?"

            Startled, Casey jumped. Recognizing Al's voice, he spun and scowled at his friend.

            "I don't think we should be wasting time sight-seeing," he replied.

            Al studied Casey, amusement twinkling in his blue eyes. "You're creeped out, aren't you?"

            "Yeah. Aren't you? I tell you, Al, I’ve got a bad feeling about this place.”

            "Nah. We can handle a pilot on the loose. And, if the thing in the mine was evil, we would have noticed something out of the ordinary by now."

            "And what experience have you to base that on? This isn't one of your space movies, Al. Those guys are smart. They could have prepped a stash. And, evil isn't predictable."

            Gaze distant, Al had a habit of not looking at people directly. However, his eyes shifted to something over Casey's shoulder. Raising a hand, he pointed.

            "Hey. I just saw something."

            Casey's head whipped around, his pulse quickening. His senses heightened, every detail in view clearer. The only thing he saw was Al jogging to an intersection.

            "What was it?"

            "I dunno. It looked like a person." Looking to his right, Al shouted, "Hey! Wait!"

            Following, Casey asked, "Did you get a good look at him?"

            "No. All I saw was a shadow. Disappeared to the left a couple of buildings down. You follow. I'll try to head them off."

            Thoughts of monsters and phantasms and madmen jibbered in Casey's mind. "You sure it was human?"

            "Casey," Al said, exasperated. "If it's an employee or a pilot, we need to know. For their safety and ours."

            He vanished around the next corner. Sighing, Casey ignored his anxiety and ran where directed. Looking to his left, he caught sight of part of a shadowy human form before it disappeared into an open door.

            Al came around the far corner on the other side of the building. When he glanced over, Casey pointed at the entrance.

            "Okay," Al said. "Check for another exit. I'll wait here."

            Casey circled the tiny building in seconds. Not only did he see no sign of another person, there was no other way for someone to escape. It appeared to be a one- or two-man dorm, like the others he had inspected.

            "Nothing."

            With a nod, Al crept toward the dark opening.

            "It's all right," he called out soothingly. "We're not here to hurt you. We're coming in. Don't be afraid."

            "Assuming it can understand you," Casey muttered.

            Bemused, Al paused and frowned at his friend. "Other than the Rim Mining stint, the universe has yet to manifest evil spirits or monstrous aliens in my presence," he hissed. "I'm pretty confident it's just some scared miner or desk jockey."

            Casey wasn't reassured.

            Returning his attention to the door, Al slipped silently up to one side and peered in. "Huh," he grunted before stepping inside. After a few seconds, he called, "It's safe."

            Upon entering, Casey found Al examining the far wall. Other than a desk, chair, and tack boards decked with lots of paper, there was nothing else in the room. No person. No animal. No suspicious statue. No Monster.

            Casey's stubble stood up.

            "You're sure you saw them enter here." Al said.

            "Yes."

            "Get a good look at 'em?"

            "No."

            Al looked at Casey momentarily.

            "I know I saw someone, something, enter this building, Al. But, all I saw was a shadow, like you. It looked solid enough."

            Al resumed examining and pushing on the walls, and stomping on floorboards.

            "I'm not finding any secret doors," he said idly. "I guess we can add ghostly apparitions to our list of encounters. Hello." He reached up and pulled a piece of paper from a wall-board, handing it to Casey. "Does this look like what I think it is?"

* * *

            Sleep was elusive for Casey. A problem. He was looking at an early start for more exploring. Equal parts uneasy and excited, his mind was a flurry of activity. He wanted to see what their prisoners had to say about Al's find. Then he shuddered at how they found that office chasing after a phantom.

            They were led there.

            What could it mean and why?

            Laying in the dark, he snatched at thoughts which raced in his mind. He quivered in excitement and shivered in eerie discomfort in turn from the possibilities. Finally, he drifted into sleep.

* * *

            Al stood at the hole leading into the giant glass bubble cradling the strange ship. Everyone else thought it was a ship. Al wasn’t so sure. But, with all the potential ideas that leaped to mind, he didn’t speculate. He didn’t know what it was, but was certain he would find out.

            Instead of darkness, the glass bubble was brightly lit. The smooth walls showed many shades of oranges, browns and reds. The source of the light was the sphere. The light shined brightly from the center, and not the whole object. It reminded Al of staring into an old round light bulb.

            Wanting to get closer, he prepared to step off the ledge.

            “Wait! Don’t go,” he heard Casey whisper in the back of his mind.

            More like a shout from a very long distance, hearing it made Al pause. Was the sphere doing this, or whatever happened to be inside of it? He already knew he was in a dream. Were the others somehow watching?

            The only way to find out was to press on.

            Stepping out with a short hop, he landed on his back and slid to the bottom, using his hands and boots to steer. A giant upheaved fragment stopped him a few yards shy of the ship.

            All the way there, the light at the center remained steady, reinforcing the bulb association. However, when he got closer, he started to notice a shape around the light’s source. Once only a few feet away, the light took the shape of a man, which also took steps forward.

            Al stopped.

            The apparition stopped.

            He stepped to within a foot of the sphere.

            The apparition stepped closer.

            Many more voices shouted at him to be careful. Not just Casey's, he heard all his colleagues. Others he barely recognized, and some he didn’t know at all.

            Noting them, he tuned them out and continued with his investigation.

            He watched the apparition, waiting for it to say or do something, like step out of the sphere. It waited with him. After a moment, he leaned to the side to get a better view of the image. It matched his movement. Then Al noticed the outline matched him perfectly. The light was too bright to make out complete details, but he saw key features on the outline: the vest, the wide-legged trousers, the cut of hair.

            The source of the light wasn’t the sphere. It was reflecting from the orb’s surface. Reflecting... from him?

            “What?” Al asked aloud, voicing his incomprehension.

            Looking around the cave, he noticed now that the glass walls weren’t as bright. The light's source was closer to the reflection point. While the orb and the apparition were brighter, it was from his proximity. The reflection was smaller, thus the surrounding space was darker.

            The sphere was reflecting a light from within him.

            Al looked at his arms and legs and chest. He wasn’t glowing.

            What was going on?
            “You are a curiosity,” a new voice said.

            Unlike the others, which suddenly went silent, this one was close. It was a male baritone. Al couldn’t place the accent.

            “Who, or what, are you?” Al asked.

            A flurry of images flashed through his mind. He glimpsed exotic people in foreign, flashy garb. After that came places Al didn’t recognize. One image stood out. A man in a black robe stared at him. His head was shaven, and he had no eyes. Or, more like his pupils were so large that not even the irises could be seen. But, if those were eyes, they didn’t reflect any light. Looking into them was like looking into a vast, black emptiness.

            “That’s you?”

            “It is.” The voice waited a moment, then said, “Set me free.”

            Al was a little alarmed at the request. Part of him immediately wanted to help. Al was normally willing to aid anyone in need. However, this request was too sudden. If he did help, what would be the consequences?

            He couldn’t just act blindly. He didn’t want to be responsible for setting a great evil loose on the rest of mankind. Before making a hasty decision, Al wanted to know as much as he could.

            "How?"

            “Simple. Just come to me, and I will make it happen.”

            "Come to you. Here?"

            "Yes.

            "What is this? A prison? How are you trapped?"

            "Come to me. Set me free."

            He heard his friends in the distance. Suddenly, they had a lot to say. The words came to him all at once. A jumble, he could only pick out a few snippets.

            “Don’t do it,” Casey said.

            Jen was saying, “... It could be a trick! It might not be what it says it is!”

            It was like listening to an audience in a game show, a cacophony of voices. Some maliciously suggested he go through with it. The rest all shouted their vote for some form of caution or outright rejection.

            They didn’t know what was at stake. For that matter, neither did he.

            “Where would you go? What would you do?”

            “I will be free.” It almost sounded euphoric.

            “But, why do you want to be free? I need to know.”

            The silence was long and deafening. When Al thought he wasn’t going to hear an answer, the man finally spoke.

            “I command you. Set me free!”

            “Unh-uh. It doesn’t work like that. See, I don’t know who you are. Why are you here? How long have you been trapped? Was it an accident or someone else’s doing? These things are important.  I’m sorry, but without answers, I can’t take the risk.”

            No reply. The renewed silence crowded in on him like the surrounding darkness. Was it over? When would he wake up?

            That expectation ended when he got some whoops of encouragement from the unseen peanut gallery.

            “You don’t know me,” the voice of the sphere said.

            This time it was not in his mind, but came from beside him. Al jerked, looking sharply to his right. A new apparition formed feet away from him. It was of the man with no eyes. The voice finally had a home, coming directly from the specter while it spoke.

            The man was hard to read, but he sounded stunned. He studied Al a minute before saying, “You don’t think I’m worthy. I’ll show you I’m worthy. I am very powerful, having lots of time to develop my abilities. Name anything you want and I can acquire it for you. Name any circumstance, and I can make it happen.”

            "Well, for starters, explain yourself. Why me? There are so many other people here, why can't they help you?"

            The apparition's brow twitched. It studied Al for a few more seconds. "You don't know me," it breathed, sounding sad. Then, more directly, it added, "I need your talent to get home."

            "My talent."

            "Yes. I will have to strip it from you. But, with it, I can navigate my way home. You, will, of course, be stuck. But your sacrifice won't go unrewarded. Name anything, and I'll manifest it for you.

            “Maybe bring back the dead,” Al muttered sarcastically, while the ramifications of the request were just starting to work in his mind. He knew exactly what the apparition meant. But, before he even had a chance to think, the figment reacted.

            The man with no eyes looked stricken. With a suppressed sigh, he said, “I am not that powerful. But, I have foreseen this. I have taken steps. Is this what you wish?”

            Al was stunned. Not that powerful? The ramifications for him were staggering. He suddenly wondered if this odd man really understood what he was asking for. The thought saddened him. He wanted to help, but it was too dangerous. They could both wind up dead.

            He couldn’t allow that.

            “Sorry,” he said. “You have nothing to really offer me."

            "But, you must get me home. It is you. I have seen it."

            "This conversation’s over.”

            Calmly, Al reached up, twisted his head to one side and vanished. With him went the light. However, the audience was left behind in darkness. They listened as the man in the sphere continued to speak, as if addressing each one of them calmly, like a prophet.

            “You will come back and liberate me. I have foreseen it. One day, you will return. I am worthy. I will show you.”

            As each of the spectators woke, these words chased them, echoing out of the darkness of slumber.

* * *

            Casey shot upright in his bed. The last dregs of the nightmare still clung to the back of his mind. The last words spoken still echoed in his ears. As he became more aware of the reality around him, the memory of the dream did not fade. He remembered all of it. So weird had it been, he almost wanted to forget it.

            To comfort himself, Casey concentrated on the darkness around him. The only glow in the closet of a room was from the digital chronometer by his bed and the dim light switch. Looking at the green numbers hurt his eyes.

            It had only been roughly three hours. That was too short for decent sleep. Disgusted, Casey started to lie back down, but hesitated.

            What if that was still waiting? What if the ghost was haunting him?

            He couldn't stay awake forever. Sooner or later he had to sleep.

            It was just a dream, he told himself, a nightmare, playing off his fears of the mystery object in the mine. It couldn't possibly be real. The ghost was a play of light. An illusion. Likewise, if he lay back down and closed his eyes, the dream wouldn't come back.

            It was his dream. Why was it about Al? 

            The stranger mentioned a talent. Darran kept saying Al had some amazing luck. Casey saw proof enough. Al's finding that crucial paper in the office was just one more instance. Maybe he desired to have it for himself, and it manifested in the ethereal alien prisoner and his request.

            This rationalization made Casey wonder if he had sensed Al's luck the first time they met. Was that why he took to the young Terran so readily? Maybe Casey wanted it to rub off on him.

            His pager went off just when he lay back down. Sighing, he flipped on the lights, rubbing his eyes while they adjusted. Getting up, he stepped over to the room's comm and activated it. Somebody else had already answered.

            "...better get up here. We just picked something up on sensors."

            "Say that again?" Casey asked.

            "Look," the female crewman said. "One of you'd better get up here. We just picked something up on deep space scan."

* * *

            Casey was still in his pajamas when he arrived on the bridge. Al, Miko, and Jenn were already there, along with the two members of the air wing, Jerry Nguyen and Jeunesse DeForest. Al, Jerry, and the crewwoman were fully dressed. Everyone else was all in sleep clothes, including the ship's captain.          For a moment, Casey felt overdressed for the occasion with his white tee and cotton trousers. Only Miko had him outdone in a full-body two-piece decorated with water lilies. DeForest's long blue t-shirt was just long enough to reveal no sign of boxers. Unable to help himself, Casey immediately imagined the tight whites that clung to her round bottom. Jenn's age was hardly noticeable under the tank-top and tight boxers she wore. Too bad she only had eyes for a man nearly half her age.

            Two beautiful women in a state of near undress. I should be enjoying this, he thought.

            But, then he caught sight of the captain, and that ruined the moment. It was rather unflattering to see that much chest hair on a man, especially on someone in less than ideal shape. Casey tried to avoid looking directly at the captain for the rest of his stay on the bridge. Mentally, he tried desperately to wipe the image from memory, with just enough left as a warning reminder.

            They all looked at Casey when the hatch hissed open then turned back to the display. DeForest smiled at him knowingly. She caught him looking. That was all he got out of her. She quickly turned away, a finger idly toying with a stray, wavy brown lock.

            He followed her gaze to the crewwoman still seated at a console. What little skin she had exposed was dark, almost as dark as his, but ruddy. Her hair was as black as Miko's, tied tight into a ponytail.

            "As I was saying," she resumed, "We just picked up a drive flare heading in our direction."

            "When will it be here?" Miko asked.

            "It's too early to tell," the captain said. "We need to spend a few more minutes observing its rate of decel to ascertain its general mass and time of arrival."

            "Probably in a few hours," the crewwoman added.

            "Any idea who it is?" Casey asked. "Is it that dropper that took off earlier today?"

            "Well, it's certainly not our contact. They're not supposed to be decelerating for another five days," Miko answered.

            "It's hard to tell," the crewwoman added. "The drive signature doesn't match what we saw from the runaway. But, it could very well be, since we never detected a jump signature. Still, this one's trajectory looks like a straight line from zenith."

            All the warriors in the room fidgeted or squirmed. That was where their JumpShip waited. Casey felt uncomfortable with the thought that they could be stranded. He decided to ignore that fact momentarily. “Could they have been on slow approach?”

            “And we simply passed them on the way?” the captain added. He looked to Miko. “Tell them."

            Miko looked at the captain blankly, but with a sterner look from him, she complied. "The Queen does a routine check-in with the Lucky Thirteen every few hours. They didn't respond to our last transmission."

            Now it was hard to ignore. Something was horribly wrong in the night sky, and this new arrival sounded less innocent with each new bit of information. Everyone remained silent. Casey weighed the possibilities. Everything led him back to the fact that they were stuck.

            "Have you tried contacting this new ship?" Miko asked.

            "Are you kidding? I just noticed them a few minutes ago," the tech said.

            "We're getting to that," the captain added.

            Nodding, she said, "All right. Everyone else should go ahead and return to sleep or their duty until I hear otherwise. Right now, there’s no indication that they’re hostile.”

            “What about the silence from Lucky Thirteen?” the captain asked.

            “We wait. They could just have problems of their own.”

            An understatement, Casey mused.

            He followed the rest out, certain that the mystery ship was hostile.

* * *

            The illusion of certain attack weighed on Casey's conscious mind. He managed to find sleep, and when he awoke, it didn't seem like enough. Thankfully, the dream hadn't returned.

            Now, he was inside his cockpit, deep in the heart of the excavated cave, but outside the glass bubble. The mystery DropShip hadn't responded to hales, and the mercs were prepping for hostilities.

            "Wow. They gave us enough time for a full night's sleep and breakfast. Not often that happens," Darran commented over the silent frequency.

            "Any idea how they got here so fast without anyone noticing?" Casey asked.

            "Nobody was paying attention. With all the stuff going on here, could you blame the Queen's crew?"

            Shrugging, Casey dropped the subject. His thoughts drifted to the plan.

            "So, are we sure this is going to work?"

            "It's the only thing we've got," Darran said.

            He and Casey were the only ones in the mine. They were ordered here as soon as Miko had roused everyone.

            The plan was to lure any attackers into the cave and engage them in force as soon as they left the water. Miko would stay outside, ready to cut the lights when the enemy was inside. The Queen of Aces would take off at Miko's command to move out of harm's way, with DeForest and Nguyen in the air to provide cover.

            Inside the cave and ready to go, Casey and Darran waited. The Griffin stood in a far corner where the rocky wall intersected the smooth curve of glass. It allowed a view across the entire mine, and gave its weapons the range they needed to be effective. Darran was close enough to the water for his particle cannons to engage ideally.

            After approximately fifteen minutes, the ground started to shake, dropping rocks on the Griffin's canopy, then quit a minute later.

            "They're here," Casey said.

            "Yup. You ready?"

            "As I'll ever be."

            More minutes passed. Then, water in the entrance churned while something heavy moved through it. After a minute, two evenly matched metal boxes poked through the surface, elongating until the horned head of Jenn's Crusader appeared. Next to it emerged the missile and light boxes from Al's Warhammer.

            "They combat dropped," Jenn said while they waded out and into position. "You should've felt Home Base taking off, by now."

            "That was ours?" Casey asked, unbelieving.

            "Yup. And bogies're right behind us. Four of them. Is everyone ready?" Casey, Darran, and Al all voiced affirmatives. "Great. Lights on my mark."

            The water hadn't settled after the Crusader and Warhammer left it. There was something else coming through. Casey thought he saw shadows moving in the lit depths. Then the cave went dark and the moving shapes solidified, backlit from outside. The still standing carcass of the Atlas, which hadn't been moved in all this time, stood out in stark relief.

            Time seemed to slow down. As the unknown attackers closed in, the seconds ticked by like minutes. Then one of them burst through the water's choppy surface, followed shortly by three more. One had lights of its own already shining. Casey's war book tagged it as a Thunderbolt, but something was strange about its right arm weapon.

            "Lights!" Jenn shouted.

            On cue, Casey reached out and flipped a switch. Two vents on either breast of his Griffin unfolded and bright beams flashed on, shining at the enemy. Al's also flipped on, shining on the last of the four. Each enemy hesitated, but only briefly before weapons came up and took aim, all four ignoring the Atlas.

            "Engage!" Jenn ordered.

            Casey brought his cross hairs over the closest one fully out of the water. It was a design he had only heard about. Apparently his war book had it on file. It was an old Lynx, maybe a recent reproduction. He quickly pulled the triggers and waited for the firing solution, regretting the fact he had to damage such a classic.

            "What kind of gun is that? Not a pulse laser is it?" Al asked.

            Casey saw why the war book was having problems identifying the weapon on the Thunderbolt. It ended in six huge barrels which started to spin while tracking onto Al's Warhammer. A few shell casings spat out near the back before Al's PPCs both punched into it. The gun exploded, the fireball disintegrating the entire arm.  

            "That's the biggest assault cannon I've ever seen," Al said.

            "Well, whatever it was, we'll never find out now," Jenn quipped.

            "I didn't want that thing firing at me!"

            "Hey, Case. Mind helping me with this overweight guy?" Darran asked.

            The HUD was trying to identify the last of the enemies. Casey could barely see it through the smoke. Vapor still dissipated in the cave, but not near as fast as in open air. A late clear view still didn't help.

            Darran had described the ’Mech aptly. It looked like an old Star League assault design. His warbook couldn't place it, switching between a Mackie, a Striker, and even a Katana. It had just cleared the water, and laser beams pulsed rapidly from both handless arms at Darran’s machine. Casey promptly leveled crosshairs over it and pulled the triggers.

            Just before his weapons fired, missile and PPC fire slammed into his ’Mech, knocking out one of the lights. He quickly repositioned his Griffin to keep it on its feet, but the motion threw off his shots. Another hit like that would knock out the other light. Other than another expense, Casey knew that they had served their purpose. He didn’t need the light to see in the dark. The HUD handled that.

            "Hey, Case," Al said. "Check this out. Spare parts!"

             In the dark, Al's HUD-painted, friendly-green Warhammer chased down an enemy-red Griffin. It had fired on Casey, and was an exact duplicate of his 3M.

            Feeling like Al's luck was finally rubbing off, Casey saw his chance to net something he could really use. However, his prey ran and hid behind one of the pillars. Its red outline remained, a taunting insult for missing an opportunity.

            Disappointed, he quickly changed targets, aiming at the Lynx.

            Concentrating on and circling around Jenn, it had its back to him. Shots away, he had some luck with the missiles in spite of the last minute correction. There was a hole painted in dark maroon in the weak rear armor.

            This Lynx was typical of the Star League original, and not a heavily modified custom. Any water getting into its chest would shut it down immediately, stranding it in the tunnel.

            "Hah! Can't escape, now," he muttered.

            Returning his attention to the enemy Griffin, he still hoped to get his chance and claim it for himself. It rounded the pillar, running his way. It looked scared of the Warhammer dogging its heels. It had good reason. The giant tooth trophy that bounced around on the cable from the Warhammer's right shoulder gleamed in the last light, giving it an air of menace. It also glowed on thermals and kept pace with a supposedly faster opponent.

            He triggered his weapons.

            Then something on the other side of the cave caught Casey's eye.

            To his left, Darran's Awesome fired all three of its particle beams. They were pointed right at the fat unknown. Mere meters from their target, the beams bent, disappearing behind a nearby pillar.

            "Did anyone else see that?" Darran asked.

            The shaven stubs of hair on Casey's neck tried their hardest to stand on end.

            The T-bolt's red and yellow picture hid behind that pillar. Nobody could possibly have drawn a bead on it. Yet the particle beams nailed it square-on. Casey stared at the motionless ’Mech long after it hit the ground. He didn't even notice his weapons had fired until the smoke started to drift around his cockpit.

            Then he remembered the Griffin.

            It was missing a head.

            His elation quickly faded, at the sight of a green gunbarrel arm resting length-wise in the flattened maroon bubble. Al speared the Griffin in the back with his other arm, while simultaneously yanking the trapped one free.

            Casey quietly fretted about the overkill. With hot Triple Strength Myomer, the Warhammer hit doubly hard.

            Putting the disappointment from his mind, he turned his last remaining light on the two final ’Mechs. The battered Thunderbolt was shutdown, no sign of its pilot outside. That left just the Lynx and the strange assault ’Mech.

            The Lynx was next to the water. It turned and waded in, then dropped from sight. It didn't appear to stumble, so it must have submerged purposefully. Maybe the pilot had been too scared to notice the breach in his back. The engine felt the effects of water and quickly shut down.

            The unknown also powered down in obvious surrender. The battle was over. Time to see who these people were and why they came.

* * *

            None of the survivors were responding to hales. Their ’Mechs were completely shut down, but none of the pilots got out. After a dozen minutes of trying to talk with them, Al decided to physically investigate the big one. Casey, Darran and Jenn took aim, in case the pilot was trying to be clever.

            The large ’Mech didn't make a move while Al slowly found hand and footholds to climb. As smooth as the surfaces were, it should have been difficult, but Al made it look easy. At the head, he spent a few minutes maneuvering around, looking for the hatch switch, sliding his hand along almost every edge and crevice. Finally he shrugged.

            "That's it," Jenn said. "I'm going to get someone with a torch."

            “Tell Miko to turn the lights back on,” Darran said.

* * *

            Darran's son, Tryan, jerked back, waiving his arm to clear away the smoke that trickled out of the hole he had cut into the armor. With the lights on and tech deposited, Jenn had left the cave. Casey lifted Tryan onto the fat ’Mech to join Al on its shoulders. Now, he stepped back while Al, armed with his slug thrower, stepped up and pointed it into the hole.

            Casey boosted the external amplification so he could hear Al's crisp demands that the pilot open his cockpit or be shot. He repeated himself three times while the smoke from inside the head dissipated. When nothing happened, Al shrugged, glanced at Casey, and then at the Griffin's PPC leveled in his direction. He looked back into the hole and reached in with one arm.

            Finding the hatch release, he yanked his arm out hastily, and stepped back. The head started to move, stretching forward before tilting down. Residual smoke wafted up and away.

            Casey couldn't see what was inside. Al and Tryan moved in to check on the pilot. Standing back up, Al appeared confused. Looking at Casey, he shook his head and shrugged.

            Tryan disappeared from view while he hopped in. After a second, he dropped a coolant vest on the armored shoulder.

            "What happened?" Casey asked.

            "I don't know,” Al said. “All the panels are burnt out. The cockpit's a mess."

            "That couldn't possibly be from the torch."

            "No. Too thorough. Cards and panels that the torch couldn't have possibly reached are burnt out. I think they did this on purpose. They don't want us to know who they were."

            “What about the pilot?”

            “I don’t know.”

            “What do you mean, ‘you don’t know’?”

            Tryan stood up and looked at Casey. “He’s not here.”

            “What?”

            “He’s not here, Casey,” Al said. “He’s just... gone. He upped and vanished. Only thing here is a neurohelmet and cooling vest.”

* * *

            The Thunderbolt turned out the same way. Blue was the one to cut into that one. Tryan wouldn't take the job, even after a discussion with Darran.

            When he was done, he came over and dropped the coolant vest at Al's feet. Casey listened to the conversation through external pick-ups.

            "I'm not touching any more of these things," the young tech said, his dyed-blue brows drawn. "They give me the creeps. Never thought I'd ever be saying that about a BattleMech. These have some bad mojo."

            "What about the Griffin?" Al asked. "That one's ours by contract."

            "Nuh-uh. Not going near it. Not here."

            Casey perked up inside his cockpit. He suddenly had an idea. Waiting for the right moment, he didn't interrupt until he knew the conversation was over.

            "What about the Atlas I bagged yesterday?" Al asked, pressing. "We still need to get it out of here."

            Blue eyed the machine then gave his warrior a dirty look that Casey saw under a zoomed reticule. After a second, he finally relented with a shrug.

            "I don't know which is worse, dealing with corpses or the ghosts of corpses. I tell you, Al, you need to sell these as soon as you can. But, I'll help get 'er out."

            "Good."

            "Hey, Al," Casey said through his external speakers. "Get, Chinn. He's worked on this 3M plenty of times. He's practically an expert."

            Al looked up at Casey with a considering look.

* * *

            The broad Asian stooped to look into the shattered, mauled interior of the BattleMech's flattened head. On the ground with him and Al, Casey already saw the coolant vest hung empty in the harness. It dripped coolant onto the crushed neurohelmet from the broken contact where the two items had been hooked together.

            "Come on, guys," Chinn's deep nasal voice echoed slightly in the cave. "This is a joke. You don't need me to diagnose this. It's official! The guy's gone. And, you did a good job making a mess of this fine machine," he said with a pointed look at Al.

            "Actually," Al said, "That's not what I'm looking for. You know a Griffin 3M's components, right?"

            "Well, yeah."

            "I want you to take the cockpit apart. Look over it. See if you can find anything out of the ordinary. It appears the pilots were transported out, or were never there to begin with. I want to know if there's some sort of new tech involved."

            You mean, you want to confirm that some sort of new technology wasn't involved, Casey silently amended.

            "Maybe like some sort of remote control box. I'll personally pay you, normal rate, since this is my salvage."

            "Now you're talking," Chinn, said. "Though, remote controlling a ’Mech is a hard feat to accomplish. I can't imagine it would be something hidden, or small. But, I'll look."

            "Actually," Casey said, "if you're up for it, think we can work out a deal?"

            "Hey!" Chinn protested.

            "Don't worry, Chinn. I'll pay you."

            "Oh. Okay."

            "Really," Al said. "A deal? What did you have in mind?"

            "Let's talk about a gradual exchange of ownership of this 'fine machine', here."

            Al's smile was lopsided. "Spare parts?" He turned to Chinn. "Oh, yeah. When you're done, I'd like you to look over the Atlas, too."

            "Didn't Blue go over that'n?"

            "He did."

            "And he didn't find a pilot or body," Casey concluded.

            "Not a trace. There should have been something in the remains. That was a full-on cockpit breach, with a hole right through the command couch. Nothing. It's like nobody was there."

            “What about the Lynx?” Casey asked. “Same thing?”

            “Closed up tight. Nobody got out.” Al turned to study the Atlas, still standing where it took its last step. In spite of the battle, it had kept upright. "I never considered that the two groups could be working together. Someone needs to check the Avatar. But, the way the rumor mill is working, people are getting spooked. We're running out of techs."

            "Sure," Chinn said, "as long as I'm paid. But, it'll be a while. I'm not sure I'll be done with this tonight." He waved at the downed Griffin.

            "Fine. I'm not in a hurry." Al looked at Casey, again. "Tonight. We'll deal then."

            Casey watched for a bit as Al walked away, wanting to say what was obvious to him. The two groups weren't working together. If tech was involved, there should have been bodies, or the disappearance should have been more complete. Maybe less. Maybe some leftover clothes, or no neurohelmet or command couch.

            There was no new tech. He would bet a lot on that.

            Instead, he looked to the hole in the back wall of the cave. That feeling of being watched seemed magnified out in the open like this. With a shiver, he walked to his own ’Mech.

            "I'm getting back in the Griffin," he said to Chinn.

            "Whatever," came an uncaring, distracted mutter from inside the head of the dead ’Mech.

* * *

6 August 3059

            Casey, Al, Darran and Miko stood in an empty pre-fab home. The only piece of furniture was a cheap plastic chair common to all Smith Mining facilities. In it sat the bearded Locust pilot. Idly flapping a couple sheets of paper in one hand, Miko paced around him a few times before stopping directly in front.

            "Hex, is it?" she asked.

            "Whoah. Don't be so informal, using my call-sign. We're not friends yet, cutie."

            His reaction didn't surprise Casey, although it wasn't anticipated. The prisoner was way too casual and unconcerned. Did he know something that gave him an edge?

            "Very well, then," Miko replied blandly. "Mister DuBois. You might have heard already that we were attacked a couple days ago by an unidentified force. We believe that you were working with them. We've already defeated them, and their ship has fled into space. But, there could be more. Should we expect another attack?"

            DuBois smiled coldly. "Sounds like Smith sent in the Cavalry," he muttered.

            "Smith hired us to come in and kick you out-"

            "Bull! You found the duty schedule! That's our names on there. He hired us as security."

            "Exactly. You're contracted employees. Why would he label you as pirates to be hunted down?"

            "You're still trying to feed me that line?" DuBois was bemused. "Come on! Give it up. You're not who you say you are. You can't fool me."

            "But, we're not pirates."

            "Well, you're as good as! Sweep in under a ruse, disguised as mercenaries to rid the place of 'evil pirates', when you're here to steal what we're protecting. It's a preposterous disguise. You can't expect me to believe that a lizard big enough for that skull or those teeth really exists. No matter how you decorate yourselves, you can't hide what's plain as day.

            "You're Comstar!"

            Al quirked a brow, while Darran mouthed the name.

            "It's obvious. You took out Hitter, Big Daddy and Boss Man pretty quick. You're probably stacked to the gills with lostech. Typical Comstar.  Don't want people to know you're still enacting Operation Holy Shroud. Don't deny it. I'm onto you. So, do your worst."

            "Then, how do you explain your tech?" Miko asked.

            "The Avatar? That one cost a pretty penny. Omni! Can get us out of a tight spot in a pinch. Much better investment than that Ultra cannon Boss Man got for the Atlas-"

            "The teleportation tech," Miko said, deadpan.

            "The wha?"

            "None of the fallen machines had pilots in them. No corpses. Nothing. In both yours and the new attackers’ machines. We can only assume that something teleported them away when they were in danger. But, we can't identify what makes it happen. Tell us how it works, and we can make some sort of deal."

            DuBois stared at her agape for many long seconds. Finally he dropped his head back and howled a loud guffaw.

* * *

            Johnathan Michael George, 'Ace', looked up at Miko from the chair. His gaze darted into the dark corners, falling onto the other three mercs in the room. He looked nervous, but not scared.

            "I really don't know. It doesn't sound like something Smith would do. I may have only worked with him for a few months, but he seemed like a nice guy who didn't have a grudge. And, I can't think of anything boss might have done to label us pirates."

            Miko accepted the explanation quietly, before saying, "We suspect that your group was familiar with the force which attacked us. Some of your ’Mechs were outfitted with some sort of remote control tech. They had the same tech in all their machines. Do you know anything about it?"

            "Remote control? No. Nobody told me anything about new junk like that. Boss mighta known. Maybe, woulda tried it to be sure it was safe. But, he couldn't have installed it on Swifty without me knowing. I swear I saw him mount up with everyone else, the day you came.

            "As for the other guys, I don't know of any other force here on this rock other than us and you.” He paused. “Sounds new, like something they might have pulled out of the find. That hole was open for a couple months, y'know. Don't remember anyone going down in there, but it's possible something was brought up. Who knows? Maybe that sphere is like a giant super computer that runs the whole process. If these new guys had it, someone must’ve got it to them.

            "But, I don't know who they are. Maybe Smith sent 'em. Maybe he didn't. They could be honest pirates. I'm sorry I can't help more than that."

            "Well, it's a slim chance, then, but would you happen to know what this ’Mech is? We can't identify it."

            George looked at the picture held in front of him. His eyes lit up. "That was in the group that attacked you? I've seen it before. Only one. Was at an HPG station on my last post in the Free Worlds. No mistaking a Grand Cursader. My warbook has info on it."

            "Thank you," Miko said. "You've been particularly cooperative."

            "Yeah. Well, you guys aren't what I expected."

            "Likewise."

            With a nod, the session was over. Darran led George out, followed by Al. Casey lingered.

            "Chinn never found anything to set the other Griffin apart from mine," he said. "Nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing new."

            "I know," Miko replied.

            Casey opened his mouth to speak but hesitated, afraid of how he might sound. "I don't think there's any technology involved with the disappearing pilots. No remote control, or anything like that."

            Miko's head snapped around, her eyes seeking his. He stared back, breath uneven with anxiety. He couldn't read anything in her features while she studied him.

            Looking away, she walked to the door.

            "I agree," she said, then left.

            Relieved, he followed. "So, why the questions about tech?"

            "I wanted to be sure we weren't missing something obvious."

            "Think they're lying?"

            "No. We haven't mistreated them, and they have nothing to gain from it. I'm not comfortable with the implications," she added, "but higher powers are at work here."

            * * *

11 August 3059

            "I'm sorry, I don't recognize those two men."

            So said the short, stocky man who met with five of the mercenary warriors aboard the new DropShip, in the mess room. Al was on picket while Jerry flew patrol, leaving the others to meet with none other than Charles Smith, owner of Smith Interstellar Mining, the day he arrived. When Miko had the two prisoners brought in, he pushed his horn-rimmed glasses up on the bridge of his nose to study them before proclaiming his answer.

            "Why you lying son-of-a...!" George burst, lunging forward.

            Jenn was quick to restrain him, and the young warrior seemed eager for it in spite of the scowl. Visibly scared, Smith backed away.

            "He's doing a very good job of lying," Smith said, once recomposed.

            Casey noticed sweat starting to break out on Smith's forehead. It didn't feel overly warm in the room.

            "And, any documentation we may have found that backs up their claim?" Miko asked.

            Smith stared hard at her for a moment. "Fake. Forged."

            "I see." Miko inhaled slowly and sighed audibly. "Well, now, Mr. Smith. We have a problem. These men are not among the five we were hired to drive off or capture. I do not recognize them among the bounties I've seen in this sector. As we are not in the business of holding prisoners who don't have a reward on their head, what do you suggest we do with them?"

            "I... Well...," Smith stammered. Then he seemed to brighten. "Tell you what! Why don't you, ah, leave them with us! And, we'll hand them over to the, er, appropriate authorities. I'm sure they'll know... what to do with them."

            "That will do," Miko said with a satisfied nod. "Now. Will you need us to stay around and provide further garrison?"

            "Heh. No. We already have a hired force on hand. They're all the protection we require. I'm sure you're looking forward to escaping this desolate periphery rock. Not much to do here, after all. Unless you want to arrange a new contract." He paused suggestively, but Miko shook her head. "Then you're contract will be fulfilled as soon as you dock with the Lucky Thirteen. Of course, your transport will take you as far as you need. Don't worry about us. "

            "Actually," Miko said, "the mine shaft has been flooded, hindering us from removing a great deal of our salvage trapped inside. We don't have the necessary equipment to drain it or move our salvage. With your help..."

            "Of course," he said hastily, looking nervous. "We'll have it drained in no time, and everything hauled aboard as soon as we can. Hopefully you'll be underway once you're secured?"

            "Of course."

            "Good. Now! If you don't mind, I need to get to work. I'll have my new security come for these two gentlemen."

            Miko nodded, but Smith was already out the hatch and walking swiftly toward the lift. Jenn turned and studied the prisoners. Casey exchanged glances with Darran, Jeunesse, and Miko.

            DuBois whirled, backing away, looking wild. "You Comstar bastards got to him, didn't you?" he hissed.

            "DuBois," George barked. "Shut it! There's a conspiracy here all right, but they aren't the perps. You heard Smith. He already has security, and seemed pretty keen on seeing them gone." He looked to Miko. "I bet whoever attacked you is his new security. They probably hired you to attack us, and then expected to finish off what was left. They're probably pulling his strings. Either way, this is bad."

            "Comstar?" DuBois asked.

            "Or that mystic splinter group? Maybe," George mused. "I knew when I saw the Grand Crusader. I bet if you snuck into the bay below, you'll find more vintage or unique ’Mechs. We're not supposed to be alive, and they'll probably finish the job if we stay." He started to sound desperate. "Please, don't leave us here. Tell them you found a bounty on us or something. Just, take us with you. Please."

            Miko looked at everyone.

            "Let's do it," Darran said.

            "Who will go tell Smith?" she asked.

            "I will," Casey said just a hair before Jenn.

            "I'll go with him," she offered.

            Miko nodded. "And what do you plan on telling him?"

            "The bounty idea sounds good," Casey said. "We'll say Darran thought of it."

            She nodded. "We'll keep the soldier's occupied. Hurry."

            Returning her nod, Casey strolled eagerly into the hall. Jenn followed close behind, catching up quickly and walking abreast with him. He could feel her side-long stare.

            "Comstar?"

            "It explains the mission, but not the disappearances."

            "Right. Your ghost did that."

            "Ghost. Right."

            "Y'know. These secret attackers could be house operatives. MIIO. ISF. Mask. Loki. SAFE." Jenn paused to roll her eyes. "Or-"

            She was about to say more when they stopped in front of the lift. The doors opened revealing a pair of soldiers in mismatched uniforms. They looked at Jenn and Casey questioningly.

            "Fellow mercenaries," she finished.

            "We're here for the prisoners," one said crisply.

            Casey nodded and pointed over his shoulder. "That way, two rooms down."

            "However," Jenn added, "our one-eyed friend just remembered a bounty he'd seen from inside the Fed Com."

            "And, per contract, we get to claim all salvage left on the field," Casey continued, "including bounties. We're claiming these two."

            "Really," the second one said. Both looked surprised. He exchanged glances with his partner.

            "Yeah. We were just on our way to tell Smith."

            "Nah, nah. That's all right. We'll tell him."

            "Cool," Casey said. One of Al's phrases seemed appropriate with these guys. "Jenn, why don't you accompany them? I'll tell Miko to put them in the brig."

            Jenn glared at Casey.

            "That's not necessary," the first merc replied. "You can be sure we'll tell him."

            Before Casey responded further, the second merc toggled the lift doors. Feeling relieved, Casey turned around. Jenn's glare softened while they started to walk, but it was still there, boring into Casey's temple.

            "You were going to let me go with them?"

            "I was hoping they'd refuse," Casey said with a grin. "Besides, you could handle yourself."

            She shot him a smile. Looking away, she grudgingly nodded. "Well, you didn't do too bad yourself."

            "Definitely Comstar"

            "What?"

            "Their accent. They're Terran."

            "How do you know?"

            "They sounded like Al."

            "Think they had anything to do with the Thirteen's communication troubles?"

            " 'Equipment malfunction', my fat wallet."

* * *

Union DropShip Queen of Aces

Lucky Thirteen Border Trade Route

Periphery

17 August 3059

            Smith was good on his word. He had the tunnel drained in a day. His crews worked the night to get the salvage hauled aboard. What the spoils couldn't fit in the bays were all towed into the Union's main cargo hold and packed for storage. He met with them one more time, briefly, to confirm that the salvage was completely hauled away.

            They lifted off about midday. None too soon. A calming week in transit, and Casey was feeling more relieved with more AUs put between him and that rock. Comstar wanted it. They could keep it, and good riddance.

            He expected never to go back there ever again.

* * *

            Reality solidified around him, but his mind was still disoriented. Casey stared at the hall blankly, confused about his new surroundings. Why he was here and not in the Queen's mess, where he began the jump? Something didn't feel right. Something was missing.

            Then a fleeting memory came to him unbidden. He had been in the hall when the Thirteen had started its long haul to Astrokaszy. The day that it misjumped. That was a week ago. He looked around, and saw a crewman holding her head and gripping the rail tightly.

            "Hey. You all right?"

            She looked at him, and it was deja vu. Now, she seemed ill, but Casey recognized her. This had been where he was a week before. Everything was in place, but a little different.

            He opened his mouth to verify what he suspected, and hesitated. How would he sound? What if he was just imagining things?

            "I'll be all right," the girl answered weekly. "Just a bout of Jump Sickness, I think. It'll pass."

            Jump Sickness! Was that what Casey felt? It was a common ailment among starfarers, but Casey had never felt its symptoms before. Why now, all of a sudden? Could it be that simple?

            He waited a few minutes, hoping that empty feeling, like something was missing, would go away. The crewman left him alone in the hall. It didn't pass. Something still didn't feel right.         

            Grabbing the rail, he propelled himself back into the mess. He had expected to come out of the jump there. Maybe the answer was there. His eyes first went to the wall chrono. The date was wrong. It had been a week since the Thirteen misjumped. It should have been the Twenty fourth, but it showed August Seventeenth. The day they jumped away from the Smith system.

            Al was belted into a chair. Sprawled comfortably, his gaze was distant. He didn't look too happy. Understandable considering what happened before they jumped away from... Then Casey understood. Something was missing.

            He wasn't seeing things from Al's point of view.

            He found a chair and sunk into it, his gaze going back to the chrono. The idea was preposterous, but the evidence stared him right in the face. Premonitions and visions during a jump were legendary. They were also extremely rare. Casey was now certain he just had one.

            None of the recorded descriptions of a jump vision fit what he had seen, though. It was so vivid and real. He remembered it like any other week in his life. It was an entire adventure, and not a confusing portent that needed deciphered. He felt that the clock was wrong, that he hadn't just experienced a whole week that never happened.

            But, he knew it was true. Like his nightmare, it was all from Al's point of view. In the dream, he had no choice but to watch everything Al did while he slept. In the vision Casey was aware of what Al was doing while he was wide awake and active. Al was the key.

            The similarities were too uncanny. His chest felt tight while a chill ran down his spine.

            After the one dream, that one night, Casey's sleep had not been disturbed. He thought it was over. Now, he had a sneaking suspicion that this vision was not the last. Would the nightmares return with it?

            He remembered that jump sickness could take hours to pass. He clung tightly to that hope, wanting it all to just fade away. Only time would tell.

25 August 3059

            Casey opened his eyes when sensation returned. From his seat in the Queen's mess, he looked up at the wall chrono. August Twenty fifth. Not September Sixth. The evidence was undeniable.

            The dreams never returned, but the vision did.

            Casey's nightmare had taken on a new form.

            It wasn't the same vision, however. Still real, and still from his and Al's dual perspectives, the events unfolded differently. The Thirteen still misjumped, but the adventure was different this time.

            However, both had elements giving them a dream-like quality. The Thirteen arrived in a new system with extra ships berthed in her collars which weren't there before. Casey met people he'd never seen before, fellow passengers with distinct, memorable faces and equally unique habits outside Casey's personal routine. Al did things impossible to normal humans.

            While it all seemed real, rationality said it wasn't. He had a large cast for a lone man's dream, but he was certain he viewed them alone. The routine outside the vision went on unchanged. Certainly others would have mentioned something, or the captains would have consulted the passengers if something was out of the ordinary, like they did during the misjump in Casey’s vision.

            But, who could Casey confide in without sounding crazy? He wasn't even through his first year under Damien's employ. He didn't want to lose his job now because of crazy talk. There was also the deal between him and Al for the salvaged Griffin.

            He looked across the table at his friend. Would mentioning the visions sour the deal? How would Al react? Casey couldn't take any chances. Al left his chair, and Casey decided to remain silent.

            It was remotely possible he might not be alone. Discrete methods of inquiry were required to find out, however. Casey hardened himself against the thought of solitary madness. He needed to prepare for future visions if he didn't want to give himself away.

            The routine around the visions was simple. Already, he found that staking out the same chair in the mess before each jump, in or out of the vision, saved him some confusion while he struggled to remember where he left off a week earlier. It was a good habit to get into.

            Al returned, and Casey was glad. He needed a distraction.

            Drink in hand, Al resumed his usual seat on the other side of the table.