DAY 84 — 13:27 (SHIPTIME)
The Orion's cockpit smelled like old sweat and burnt insulation—like it had never fully forgiven its last pilot for dying in it.
Morrigan stood at the ladder with her helmet tucked under one arm, staring up into the open canopy like it was a throne she didn't trust. Bay lights cut hard angles across her face: pale skin, dark liner, mouth set in a stubborn line that always looked like it was one insult away from violence.
Rook and Rafe had the Orion braced on stands, leg assemblies sealed back up, actuator housings bolted and marked with fresh paint lines that screamed temporary fix to anyone who knew how to read machines.
Lyra's voice came over the bay intercom from the Union's control station. "Diagnostics green across movement range. Minor vibration in the left knee at high torque. The shim is holding."
Rafe: "For now."
Rook: "Don't abuse it."
Morrigan's eyes narrowed. "I wasn't going to."
Dack didn't look at her. He was under the Dire Wolf's open left torso panel, checking a cable run with a flashlight. "You are."
Morrigan snapped, "I'm not—"
Dack's voice stayed level. "You charge when you get mad."
Jinx, perched sideways on a tool cart like she was a queen of bad ideas, laughed. Her long dirty-blonde hair was loose today, falling in messy waves, and her blue eyes had that bright, predatory spark that made dockworkers avoid meeting them. Black-and-red jacket half-zipped over a tight top, combat shorts, boots—everything about her looked like she could climb a Highlander and then bite you for fun.
"She does," Jinx said, delighted. "It's adorable."
Morrigan's glare sharpened. "Say that again."
Jinx leaned forward. "Adorable."
Taila stood by the Marauder's ladder, arms folded, trying to look like the argument didn't amuse her. Tight black halter top, long black combat leggings with red stripes down the sides, braid falling over her shoulder. She still blushed too easily, but she'd started standing her ground when Jinx tried to bully her into being louder than she felt.
Taila muttered, "Both of you are children."
Jinx pointed at her. "You're learning."
Quill watched from beside the Awesome's bay pad, calm and still, the way she always was when she didn't want anyone to know she was paying attention to every weakness in the room. Black underlayer, red trim, sleeves rolled up—less show, more function.
Cassia Rell stood near the Griffin, helmet clutched tight against her ribs like it was the only thing keeping her from bolting. Short dark hair, rich-girl academy cut grown out into something practical. Her old jacket had the insignia cut off—stitch scars visible. She kept her posture straight like she'd been taught discipline could replace confidence.
Dack slid out from under the Dire Wolf and stood. "We do a shakedown."
Lyra answered immediately. "I booked a private industrial badlands range outside the starport zone. Minimal oversight. No cameras."
Dack nodded once. "Good."
Jinx hopped off the tool cart and stretched like a cat, then paused—one hand drifting briefly to her lower stomach under the hem of her jacket. A small, quick motion that could've been nothing.
Taila saw it.
Lyra saw it.
Neither said a word.
Jinx caught herself and forced her grin back onto her face like armor. "Field trip."
Dack didn't notice. Or if he did, he didn't show it. "Morrigan in the Orion. Taila in the Marauder. Quill in the Awesome. Jinx in the Highlander."
Cassia's eyes flicked to Dack, sharp with hope and fear. "Me?"
Dack looked at her. "You're not touching my spare heavy. You're in the Griffin."
Cassia blinked. "The Griffin?"
Taila stiffened slightly—then relaxed. The Griffin had been her first real "home" machine. It mattered that she didn't flinch at letting someone else sit in it now.
Dack added, "You're overwatch. Stay back. Pick targets. Don't chase."
Cassia swallowed. "Understood."
Morrigan climbed the Orion ladder without another word, like words would make her nervous, and she refused to be nervous in front of anyone.
---
The badlands range was an ugly piece of planet that nobody cared about.
Broken shale, wind-blown dust, old mining scars, and abandoned ferrocrete slabs that made perfect cover for people who didn't want to pay for a real facility. The sky was washed out, sun harsh, heat shimmering off metal.
Lyra kept the Union and Leopard tucked low in a shallow basin beyond the ridge line, engines quiet, doors sealed. She didn't like exposure.
Dack understood why.
He climbed into the Dire Wolf cockpit, sealed the hatch, and let the reactor hum settle in his chest.
"Eighty-four," he said once, quiet.
Then he keyed the lance channel. "Comms check."
Jinx: "Loud and horny."
Taila: "…Loud and clear."
Quill: "Green."
Morrigan: "Green."
Cassia: "Green."
Dack: "Move."
The Dire Wolf stepped forward first, heavy feet crunching shale. The Highlander followed on his left, the Awesome on his right. The Marauder moved slightly behind, testing its stride like a predator learning new legs. The Griffin stayed farther back on a ridgeline, Cassia holding overwatch exactly as ordered.
Morrigan's Orion came last, slower than she wanted, because the left knee was still a promise made out of cheap parts and stubbornness.
Dack watched her movement on sensors. "How's the leg."
Morrigan's voice came tight. "Fine."
Rook's voice cut in from the Union, patched through by Lyra. "It's not fine. Don't torque it hard."
Rafe: "Please."
Morrigan snapped, "Stop mothering me."
Rook: "We're not."
Rafe: "We're warning you."
Jinx laughed. "They are mothering you."
Morrigan made a sound that was almost a growl.
Dack didn't argue. "Walk it. Turn. Stop. Start. Heat cycle."
They ran simple drills first.
Turn radii. Reverse steps. Lateral shifts.
The Orion's left knee vibrated under high load—small, but noticeable. Morrigan compensated unconsciously, shifting weight to the right leg like she'd always piloted it.
Dack caught it immediately. "You're favoring."
Morrigan snapped back, "I'm not."
Dack replied, "You are."
Silence.
Then, grudging: "Fine."
Taila ran the Marauder through the same drills, slower than she wanted. The Marauder punished her impatience with heat spikes and sluggish rotations. She breathed, reset, did it again. It wasn't pretty, but it was progress.
Quill's Awesome moved like an anchor—deliberate, stable. She didn't waste motion. She made the machine look inevitable.
Jinx's Highlander… moved like Jinx. Confident, a little reckless, but always aware of her lanes. She didn't fire unless she meant it.
Cassia stayed high and back in the Griffin, sensors wide, posture tight. The Griffin's cockpit fit her better than she wanted to admit—something about the machine's balanced feel, its jump jets, the way it rewarded patience.
Dack finally keyed her. "Target board."
Cassia: "Copy."
A set of drone targets rose from behind broken slabs: cheap automated plates and pop-up silhouettes. Some static. Some moving. Some designed to punish bad timing.
Dack didn't sugarcoat. "Cassia. Show me."
Cassia didn't hesitate.
She waited for the first moving plate to crest a slab and fired the Griffin's PPC—one clean bolt that would've cored a light mech's torso if it were real. She followed with an LRM ripple to tag a second target that tried to "duck" behind cover.
Dack watched the hit marks appear on the sim overlay and nodded once. "Good."
Cassia's shoulders loosened slightly.
Then a target popped close—too close—forcing a quick pivot.
Cassia overcorrected. Her Griffin's torso swung too fast. Heat climbed.
Dack's voice cut in immediately. "Reset. Don't fight your panic."
Cassia's jaw clenched. "I'm not panicking."
Dack replied, "You are. Reset."
Cassia inhaled, forced her hands to steady, and let the Griffin settle before firing again. This time her PPC shot landed true.
Taila's voice came quietly, almost respectful. "Nice."
Cassia went still for half a beat like praise was unfamiliar. "Thanks."
Jinx, immediately: "She's blushing."
Cassia: "I'm not."
Morrigan: "You are."
Jinx cackled. "Welcome to Moonjaw."
The drills continued.
They were finally starting to look like something worth hiring.
Which is why the first real interruption came.
Lyra's voice cut into the channel, calm but sharper than usual. "Contacts moving in from the north ridge. Not starport security. No transponders."
Dack didn't change tone. "Types."
Lyra: "Five mechs. Mixed. Two lights, two mediums, one heavy."
Jinx made a pleased noise. "Someone wants to play."
Quill's voice stayed flat. "This is not a sanctioned range."
Lyra: "It is. They don't care."
Dack's eyes narrowed behind the canopy glass. "Cassia, stay back. Overwatch only."
Cassia's voice tightened. "Understood."
Dack: "Morrigan, don't charge."
Morrigan: "I wasn't—"
Dack: "Don't."
Morrigan shut up.
---
The raiders crested the ridge line in a dust plume like they owned the air.
A Locust ran point, fast and cocky. A Jenner paced beside it, jump jets flickering. Behind them came a Phoenix Hawk and a Hunchback, the Hunchback's right arm a thick, ugly weapon barrel that screamed close-range brutality. The heavy brought up the rear: a Catapult, missile racks visible even at distance, posture confident like it expected the world to step aside.
Jinx's laugh crackled over comms. "Cute lineup."
Quill's voice sharpened. "They're not here for fun."
Lyra: "They're hailing. Open channel."
Dack keyed it.
A man's voice came through, distorted and smug. "Range fee's due. Badlands belong to the Cinder Whelps. You shoot here, you pay here."
Jinx snorted. "That's the dumbest name I've ever heard."
Taila whispered, "Jinx…"
The raider continued, annoyed. "Three hundred thousand C-bills. Or you leave your heavy as collateral."
Dack looked at the Catapult, then at the Hunchback. He could already picture the kind of pilots who used that combination: a bully pack that liked easy prey.
He replied, voice calm. "No."
The raider laughed. "Then we take it."
Dack didn't raise his voice. "Try."
The channel cut.
The Locust sprinted first, flanking wide like it was going to circle and tag someone's rear armor. The Jenner boosted up onto a slab for a firing angle. The Catapult stayed back, playing the smart role—missile support. The Hunchback and Phoenix Hawk pushed center, trying to collapse distance where their brawling mattered.
Dack didn't let them choose the terms.
"Quill, center. Jinx, left. Taila, right. Morrigan, hold behind Taila and don't overextend. Cassia, call targets."
Cassia's voice came immediately, tense but clear. "Locust left wide. Jenner high slab. Catapult rear support. Hunchback center advancing. Phoenix Hawk right-center."
Dack answered, "Good."
He fired first—LRMs from the Dire Wolf in a tight ripple, not emptying racks, just enough to force movement. The missiles arced and slammed into the Jenner's slab position, detonations chewing ferrocrete and showering dust. The Jenner had to jump off its perch early, losing its clean angle.
Quill's Awesome spoke next—one measured PPC bolt into the Hunchback's approach lane. The shot hit center mass, stripping armor and spiking heat. The Hunchback kept coming anyway, because brawlers always did.
Jinx waited until the Locust committed to its flank run, then fired her gauss rifle once—clean, cruel. The round punched through the Locust's side torso and ripped it apart like it was paper. The Locust spun, stumbled, and collapsed into shale.
Jinx's voice was bright. "Oops."
Taila's Marauder held right, taking a cautious angle and firing one PPC shot that clipped the Phoenix Hawk's shoulder plating. She didn't chase. She stayed in lane like Dack had drilled into her.
The Catapult finally launched an LRM spread—missiles streaking toward Dack's Dire Wolf and Quill's Awesome.
Dack shifted his Dire Wolf behind a slab, letting armor take what it had to. Missiles hammered the ground and his upper plating, warning tones flickering in his cockpit. He answered with a short AC/10 burst—one heavy shell into the Catapult's right torso, not enough to drop it, enough to make the pilot feel it.
Morrigan's Orion fired its LRM-15 in support, arcing missiles into the Catapult's lane, forcing it to step back and re-angle.
Then the Hunchback made the mistake Dack was waiting for: it pushed too hard, too fast, trying to close on Quill's Awesome.
Quill stayed calm, anchored, and fired both PPCs in sequence. The first stripped armor. The second punched deeper.
The Hunchback staggered, then raised its big right arm anyway—trying to line up the shot that ended fights.
Dack didn't let it.
He stepped out from cover, fired another short LRM ripple to force the Hunchback's torso twist, then sent an AC/10 shell into its already damaged chest.
The Hunchback's torso caved.
Its reactor warning flared.
The pilot punched out.
The ejection seat rocketed upward—then drifted down into the battle space like a slow, helpless thing.
Taila's breath caught. "He ejected."
Dack didn't answer. There wasn't time.
The Phoenix Hawk tried to take advantage, boosting toward Taila's flank.
Cassia's voice snapped, sharp. "Phoenix Hawk jumping on Taila's right!"
Cassia fired from overwatch—Griffin's PPC cracking across distance. The bolt hit the Phoenix Hawk mid-landing, slamming into its leg assembly and forcing it to stumble. It didn't fall, but it lost momentum.
Taila used the opening—one controlled PPC shot into the Phoenix Hawk's torso as it tried to recover, followed by a burst of medium lasers when it came into range.
The Phoenix Hawk backed off, heat climbing.
Jinx laughed, pleased. "That's my baby's stepmom."
Taila, flustered even in combat: "Jinx—!"
Jinx's voice softened for half a beat. "You're doing great."
Taila swallowed and refocused.
The Catapult, realizing it was losing, tried to retreat behind the ridge. The Jenner covered it, firing and jumping erratically, trying to keep them from pressing.
Dack didn't chase like a raider.
He advanced like a professional.
"Push. Keep lanes. Don't split."
Morrigan's Orion stepped forward, knee vibrating slightly under load. She kept it controlled—didn't sprint, didn't lunge, didn't give Dack a reason to bark at her. The Orion fired its AC/10 once into the Catapult's rear plating as it turned, tearing armor away.
The Catapult staggered.
The Jenner jumped again to cover it—
—and Jinx fired her gauss rifle a second time.
The round caught the Jenner through the torso and ripped it open. The mech collapsed in a cloud of dust and sparks.
The Catapult froze for a fraction of a second—pilot realizing the math had changed.
Quill's voice went cold. "Surrender."
The raider channel opened again, panic bleeding through arrogance. "We're leaving! We're leaving!"
Dack's voice stayed calm. "Drop weapons. Power down."
The Catapult didn't power down.
It fired another LRM spread—desperation, spite, stupidity—and tried to back away.
Dack didn't flinch. He fired his gauss rifle once.
The round punched through the Catapult's center torso. Armor failed. Internal structure folded. The Catapult dropped hard, missiles dying mid-launch.
Silence hit the channel like a door slamming shut.
The Phoenix Hawk limped backward, then turned and ran, jump jets stuttering.
Dack didn't chase it.
He didn't need to.
They'd made the point.
---
The badlands wind blew dust over broken machines and ejection seats.
The Locust's wreck smoked. The Jenner's cockpit was a black crater. The Catapult lay on its back like a dead animal, missile bays twisted.
Quill held position, Awesome steady, heat controlled.
Taila's Marauder stood with its PPC housings glowing faintly from heat, her breathing audible over comms.
Morrigan's Orion trembled slightly at the left knee—still holding, but complaining.
Cassia stayed back on the ridge, Griffin steady, heart pounding so hard her voice sounded different when she spoke. "Area clear."
Dack answered, "Good shooting."
Cassia's breath hitched. "Thank you."
Jinx's voice was bright and pleased. "She did a thing!"
Morrigan's voice was sharp but less hostile than usual. "She did two things."
Jinx laughed. "Morrigan complimented her."
Morrigan snapped, "I didn't."
Dack cut across them. "We salvage what we can. Fast. Lyra, keep eyes on traffic."
Lyra's reply came calm. "Already watching. No incoming. Starport security is pretending they didn't see it."
Dack wasn't surprised. Galatea was good at looking away if the right people benefited.
They moved in disciplined arcs—no one stepping too close to a downed cockpit unless necessary. No stupid hero walks. No celebrations.
Jinx's Highlander stood guard while Quill's Awesome and Taila's Marauder covered angles. Morrigan's Orion moved carefully to avoid stressing the knee. Cassia kept overwatch on the ridge, scanning for anyone else stupid enough to try their luck.
Dack climbed out of the Dire Wolf just long enough to visually confirm the Catapult's condition: salvageable if they moved it, valuable if they could sell it, dangerous if they left it for scavengers.
He keyed comms. "Lyra. We can haul?"
Lyra didn't hesitate. "We can tag and lift with the Union's winches if we bring it to the basin. It'll take time."
Dack looked at the horizon. "We don't have time."
Jinx's voice came easy. "So we strip it."
Dack: "Yes."
They took what mattered quickly—ammo bins, intact heat sinks, actuator assemblies, anything that would keep their machines alive longer.
The Cinder Whelps' ejected pilot drifted down in the distance, landing hard and rolling. He was alive. Probably injured. Probably terrified.
Quill's voice came tight. "He's out of the fight."
Dack answered, "He's a witness."
Quill didn't like it, but she didn't argue. She understood witness math.
Jinx, from her Highlander, said brightly, "I can fix that."
Taila's voice snapped, quiet but sharp. "Jinx."
Jinx paused, then sighed theatrically. "Fine. I'll let him live so he can tell everyone how hot we are."
Dack didn't comment.
But he didn't stop her from being the rumor.
---
When they were back inside the Union's bay and the doors sealed again, the air felt heavier—safe, but tense.
Rook and Rafe swarmed the Orion the moment Morrigan powered down, checking the left knee like anxious surgeons.
Rafe: "You pushed—"
Rook: "—too hard."
Morrigan snapped, "I didn't—"
Rafe: "You did."
Rook: "A little."
Morrigan's glare flicked to Dack like she expected him to pile on.
Dack didn't. He just said, "You held."
Morrigan froze. The words landed harder than yelling would've.
She looked away fast. "Whatever."
Jinx bounced into the bay with a strip of Catapult wiring slung over her shoulder like a trophy, grin sharp. Then she paused again, hand briefly brushing her jacket hem—another small, quick motion.
Lyra's eyes met Taila's for a fraction of a second across the bay.
Taila nodded slightly.
They didn't say anything.
Cassia stood near the Griffin's ladder like she didn't know where to put herself now that she'd actually been useful. Her cheeks were faintly pink, not from flirtation—adrenaline and pride warring with shame.
Dack walked up to her. "You stayed in lane."
Cassia nodded fast. "Yes."
"You called targets," Dack continued.
"Yes."
"You didn't chase," Dack said. "Good."
Cassia's throat bobbed. "Thank you."
Jinx drifted up behind Dack, leaned into his shoulder as if claiming space. "Our new girl shoots nice."
Cassia stiffened instinctively.
Jinx grinned at her. "Relax. If you're on probation, you're already ours."
Cassia blinked, confused by the possessive phrasing. "I…"
Taila stepped closer, voice softer than Jinx's but just as firm. "You did good."
Cassia looked like she didn't know how to accept it. "I… I still messed up."
Dack said, "Everyone does. You corrected."
Cassia went quiet.
Quill watched it all with a strange stillness—like she was seeing a unit form and remembering she'd spent too many years believing units were just contracts and casualties.
Lyra's slate chimed.
She glanced down, then up at Dack. "We have a ping."
Dack didn't move. "From who."
Lyra's eyes narrowed slightly. "A broker. One of the legitimate ones."
Jinx leaned in, excited. "Big money?"
Lyra didn't smile. "Big risk."
Dack's voice stayed even. "Say it."
Lyra turned the slate so he could see the header.
CONTACT OFFER: BORDER RELIEF / ANTI-RAID RESPONSE
PAY: HIGH
SALVAGE: NEGOTIABLE
OPPOSITION: CLAN ELEMENTS CONFIRMED (LIGHT–HEAVY MIX)
The word CLAN sat there like a blade on a table.
Taila's face went a shade paler. "Clans…"
Morrigan's eyes sharpened. "Those aren't pirates."
Quill spoke quietly. "They don't fight like Inner Sphere raiders."
Jinx's grin didn't vanish, but it tightened. "They fight like they think dying is romantic."
Dack stared at the slate a long moment.
Then he looked around his bay—at the Dire Wolf, at the Highlander, at the Awesome, at the Marauder, at the Orion braced and half-reborn, at the Griffin with a new pilot still learning her place.
At the women who'd become more than passengers.
He didn't make a speech.
He just said, "Send terms."
Lyra nodded once. "I will."
Dack's voice went calm, firm. "We don't take fights we can't survive. We take fights we can win and get paid for."
Jinx hooked her arm around his waist and murmured, pleased, "Look at you. Responsible."
Dack glanced down at her, expression unreadable. "Don't get used to it."
Jinx laughed.
Taila smiled, small and warm.
Cassia watched them like she was trying to understand what kind of crew she'd just joined.
Quill's gaze stayed steady, calculating.
Morrigan looked at the Orion like she wanted it battle-ready tomorrow.
Lyra turned back to her slate, already negotiating with people who thought money could buy outcomes.
And Dack—when he climbed back into the Dire Wolf cockpit later and let the reactor hum settle his thoughts—only said the number once, quiet, for himself.
"Eighty-four."
Then he stared at the new contract header on his display and felt the shape of the next war forming.
Clans.
Real enemies.
Real pay.
And no room left for mistakes.