I am starting to feel the first inklings of my muse returning, but until she does, by way of apology for having not written anything in so long, I would like to show you something. This is a short backstory I wrote for a Lancer RPG character. Her name was Astra Badoora, callsign... The Blue Comet. So yeah, she was just gender-swapped Char, with her name attempting to evoke his Quattro Bajeena era. This is the tale of her house's fall, and the beginning of her quest for revenge. In play, she was more 'fun' than this grimdark tale would imply. Our sessions were pretty light-hearted most of the time.
Mentions of "gard" are references to my GM's setting, where this particular polity had a caste system. "Gard" were a soldier caste.
This story is about 900 words long.
A Debt of Blood
The hydrangeas were in bloom around the east garden. Pink and white petals drifted across the tea table. Jorgen was grinning at her, mirth from a bawdy joke now long forgotten. The scent of lemons. The silhouette of her father.
“Contact at point echo.”
Sunset glinting off the lake.
“800 meters south, mechanized unit.”
“God, they sent a whole company.”
Her eyes refocused, torn away from the garden now cast in the harsh shadows of floodlights, the stone paths covered in plastic crates and comm stations. She clicked her transmitter open.
“Hold the chatter. Show your pride as a warrior.” She looked to her left and right, through the cockpit viewscreens, at the array of house mechs around her. “I picked each and every one of you myself. You are the pride of House Haville. We do not accept defeat!”
“We do not accept defeat!” The chorus echoed back through her headset.
“Captain Geller, your squad is taking point.”
“Yes, my lady.” The familiar hoarse voice, almost shrill with the expectation of battle. She could see the Haville banner on his mech’s chassis glinting in the floodlights. A golden axe on an azure field. What color would it be when the dawn came?
“500 meters south, incoming fire.”
Her grip tightened on the control pods. “Engage! Into them, Haville!”
The night became fire.
The crack and sizzle of particle cannons split through the hillside, each flash of tamed lightning exposing a moment of frenzied action. A photograph of carnage. The comm channel was a constant drone of status updates, calls for backup, contact reports. At 22:50 someone’s reactor went critical. She was pretty sure it was an enemy. There was a lull at 23:30. Ammunition and batteries were brought forward, and she took stock of their losses.
At midnight, the second wave hit. As many as before, only fresh now, their green and white chassis spotless and gleaming in the enhanced light of her viewscreen. A pit opened in her chest.
“We do not accept defeat.”
And then she was in their ranks again, blazing a path of ruin. Autocannon rounds slammed into her armor, shaking the pilot seat. Her honor guard shot forward, only to be swallowed in fire. She felt the jolt of her sword biting into enemy armor. It was too much, they were all around her now.
She lost an arm, and her thrusters were no longer firing. Alarms were blaring in the cockpit. She breathed out and pulled the eject handle. G-force slammed her forward as the cockpit launched itself back. The viewscreens darkened reflexively as her core went supercritical. And then she was falling, too soon for the parachute to deploy. A hard crash, and then blackness.
There was a sharp crack as the hatch was forced open. Her eyes opened, but her vision was unfocused, and her head was swimming. She had a vague impression of uniformed figures through the blinding beam of a flashlight.
“Yeah, that’s her.”
“I want that confirmed, no mistakes.” Their accents were strange. They weren’t her own troops. Did Korland gard sound like that?
One of them stepped into the cockpit, grabbed her hand and pressed it into a datapad. She didn’t resist, her head was still pounding.
“Confirmed, sir. Terra Haville.”
“Alright, do it. Erlos, you have HQ on the horn? Patch me in.” His voice grew distant. There was a shuffling, and the unmistakable click of a rifle safety. She closed her eyes again.
“For Haville!” Automatic gunfire erupted outside. Her eyes shot open. She knew that voice. She groped for the sidearm beside her seat, slammed the release on her harness. The straps pulled away, and she lurched forward. She leaned out of the hatch, planted one foot on solid ground, and fired three rounds into the first trooper she saw. Haville soldiers were rushing into the clearing where she had landed. Captain Geller was there, rifle in hand.
“My lady!” he sped to her side, “My lady, are you alright?”
“Fine, Captain. I’m fine.” There were only a dozen or so Haville infantrymen here. She hesitated to ask what she must. “Status?”
“The line has collapsed. Most of our troops are gone. The manor…” She could see the fire in the distance. Her mouth felt very dry.
“My brothers?”
Geller shook his head, “My lady, I am sorry.”
Her hands were shaking.
“My lady, we must get away from here, there are still active mechs in the area.”
She tightened her grip on her pistol. There was no room for grief amidst her fury.
“Are you certain I cannot persuade you against this?” The Count’s office was dim, lit only by a single desk lamp and the first rays of the sun peeking through heavy curtains. He was gripping a datapad in both hands, and looking at her with a pained expression.
“I am quite certain, Halden.”
“Denier Korland’s sons are dead. Is the debt not repaid?”
She stood from her chair, “There were more than Korland forces present, the night my family was butchered.”
Count Thurwood sighed deeply, “A theory only.”
“And when did House Korland increase its ground strength threefold? Where did their gard pick up Kamez accents?” She fought to keep her voice calm. “We have been over this many times. I know what I saw.”
The Count turned away from her, rubbed his eyes with one hand, “As far as anyone knows, the raid was merely the act of your honorable captain. You could remain hidden here for…”
“I will not.”
“Terra…” There was grief in his voice.
“Terra Haville is dead.” She took the datapad from his hands and moved to the window, peering out at a red dawn, “But her ghost will have blood, all the same.”
