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"Whenever you find yourself on the side of the majority, it's
time to pause and reflect." Samuel Clemens (Mark Twain)
Firebase Zulu Two Niner, Congo Quadrant, Africa Sector. Oct., 2040.

It had been 5 years since the Invid came. Rear Admiral (Upper Half) Clemens was tearing here hair out at the moment.

"Ma'am, they're tearing our people up" Lt. Jackson was whining.

"Yes, Lt. I'm well aware of the situation" the Admiral replied.

"Well let's DO SOMETHING about it!" Jackson screamed.

"Lt. Regain your military bearing OR ELSE." Adm. Clemens thought a moment. "What exactly IS happening, Lt.? Why are we getting our buts kick each time we go out?"

"Uh, well ma'am, it our hardware. It's worn out. We don't really have enough people to make any kind of guerrilla action make much difference, and every time we try, the slugs take it out on the civilian hostages."

Civilian hostages, Adm. Clemens thought. That's what we're calling slaves. How could we have gotten so low?

"Alright. Alright, there's a wrecked 'Traedi battle cruiser near here, isn't there?" Adm. Clemens asked while rubbing her head.

"Uh, yes ma'am, about 10 clicks west. What about it?"

"You and Mr. McMahon take a jeep out there, recon it, and tell me what you find."
"Tug’s currently underway ma’am."

"THAT IS CHIEF WARRANT OFFICER MCMAHON TO YOU, LIEUTENANT. DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?"

"Uh, yes, yes Admiral, I didn't mean to be disrespectful."

"Very well. How long will he be out?"

"This IS Chief Warrant Officer McMahon we're talking about, ma'am. Guessing at that's the same as guessing why the Invid came here."

"We know why the came, Mr. Jackson- Because they could."

"Well, then ma'am, no disrespect intended, but I'm guessing we know more about the enemy than we know about our own." The Lt. barely managed not to smile.

Adm. Clemens didn't even bother. "Hehehe. Yes, I suppose it does. Alright, recall him. Tell him I said to get back stat."

"Yes ma’am."

"And take Jay with you."

"Jay, ma'am? He's psychotic."

"Yes, but he's a scrounger. Send him in here before you leave."

"Aye-aye, ma’am."

A couple of hours latter, SE2 Lee arrived. "Adm. you wanted to see me?" As usual, the anal-retentive bastard was standing perfectly at position of attention. And, as usual, his uniform was all squared away, expect the tears and paint all over it. What is this guy’s issue?

"Relax Jay. It's me."

"Ma'am, you were Crystal 15 years ago. You're an officer now."

"Still or I'll tape your ass into the chair."

Lee chuckled at that. "Yes ma'am. So what can ol' Jay do for you, ma'am?"

"I got an issue. There's an old 'Traedi cruiser west of here. You're a scrounger. Scrounge it within an inch of your life."

"Ma’am, with all due respect, don't ever call me a scrounger. I am an expert salver."

"So I guess those 15 years prevent me from calling you what you are now?" the Adm. smiled.

"Ma'am, calling me a scrounge’s fine for enlisted folks. Even Tug. But you are above that."

"Fine. Salvage. I need Mecha. BADLY. Reactors, armour plate, especially."

"Roger that ma'am. Anything else? Laser turrets, missile launchers, that sort of crap?"

"If it's easy. Otherwise leave it alone. Actually, scratch that. Just recon it for now, figure out what's there and report back."

“Roger that ma’am."

The next day, the trio set out in a beat up old Humvee. "So Tug, what's the story?" Lee asked from the back seat.

"Don't know yet. All I know is Crystal wants it checked out."

"The Admiral tole me she wants it scrounged."

"Did she? When was that?"

"Yesterday. Pre-brief. Hey, what took you so long getting back, anyways?"

"Ran into some pirates. Old friends of mine, actually. I impressed them."

Impressment, Lee thought, so that's what he's calling blowing them out of the water. "How many survived?"

"All of them. One shot across the bow and they struck their colors."

"Surprising. Or is that you rep showing through?"

"Whatever it was, they were all too willing to sign on. Rather than die. I actually got a good boat out of the deal, a two-ten."

"There was one left? Cool. You gonna take her out?"

"Hell no, I like Piranha. Did you bring your jacket?"

"I'll need my hands free."

"Did. You. Bring. Your. Jacket."

"Yes, Tug, I did. But I'll need my hands free."

"Wear it. I'll let you keep your hands free as long as I can."

"Aye." It's so not fair...

Upon reaching the T’sentraedi Warship, the three got out. Lt. Jackson found the way in first- A hull breech just aft of what was probably the engine room bulkhead, about 5 feet up off the ground. "Come on then, let’s do this."

They started searching through the ship, finding old Regaults, and parts of them, everywhere. "No bodies" Lee commented.

"Probably rotted away a long time ago" the Lt. observed.

"No uniforms, no body armour lying around. Think maybe it already got stripped?" Lee asked.

"No" CWO McMahon answered. "There's no access, and Human malcontents wouldn't have bothered with the uniforms and body armour. Maybe she was a drogue." Drogues were what T’sentraedi supply ships, essentially automated warehouses, were sometimes called.

"Not likely" Mr Jackson offered. "Drogues were rare, our chances of having found one here are pretty small."

"Maybe this was a malcontent post? Everything is in pretty good order" Lee offered.

"Malcontents rarely abandoned their warehouses" Tug answered.

"Unless they were killed out there" Mr. Jackson corrected.

"True enough, I suppose Aaron."

"HEY!!! LOOK AT THAT! Jay sung out. It was a nearly perfect Officer Battle Pod. The top gun was missing, but other than that, it was intact. "I've always wanted to pilot one of these."

"Easy, Jay" Tug warned.

"Hey, Tug, I'm ok. Betcha I can get it working."

"It wouldn't be worth the effort" Mr Jackson observed. "Limited armour, limited firepower."

"Ya, but my pappy tole me this story, how he was huntin malconts down in South America, he saw an ostrich with a VT stuffed inside. Somehow the malconts had rigged the VT to operate the pod. I betcha we could do the same thing."

"Still it wouldn't be worth the effort."

"What were you thinking Jay?" tug asked.

"Well, what if we stuffed a gimp battloid in one, modified the cockpit to take the battloid. Then you could keep fighting, even if the shell was destroyed. Id be like if each pilot had two Mecha, rather than one."

"It's that kind of thinking that's got you in that straight jacket, Jay" Mr. Jackson snidely remarked.

“WHAT!?!?!?”

"Lee, easy. Mr. Jackson's right enough, you know."

"Screw you, sir. I mean the Lieutenant."

"Jay. Go search. NOW."

"Yes Bosun."

Once Lee was out of earshot, Tug started on the Lt. "Don't do that, sir. He's right enough, if it can work."

"Alright, let's just get this done."

All of a sudden, they heard a loud series of crashing sound that seem to go on a while. Quite a while. Rushing towards the source of the noise, they found Jay sitting on his ass, covered in dust and dishevelled. "What happened?" Mr. Jackson asked worriedly.

"Well, for starters, I found the crew," Jay answered, gesturing non-committals forwards. It was then that Mr. McMahon noticed it- T'sentraedi Battle Armour spread about- With bones still in them.

"Hm. So you did."

"I thought they were spares, so I started climbing them..."

"You what? Lee, you could have gotten yourself killed! ARE you hurt?" the Lt. asked.

"No, sir, not really. Banged up, bout it. Anyways, I was climbing up when the pile shifted. That's what cause the crashing. Sorry sir."

"No, never mind that, you're not hurt."

"I did find MRE's over in the corner, by the way, but I also found old RDF 'Traedi uniforms. I guess deserters."

"Well, that explains that, then. Sure you’re not hurt?"

"Yes Mr. Jackson, I'm ok."

"Alright then, lets keep looking. you be more careful."

"Yes sir, no more excitement this trip."

"Good."

After a few hours of searching they found very little of use. Just more old officer battle pods, a few intact tactical battle pods, even some artillery pods- With missiles.

"Mr. Jackson, those missiles have been here a LONG time. They're probably not safe anymore." Jay commented.

"Yes, I was thinking the same thing. Best to leave them alone. Well, Lee, you're the Salvage Expert Second Class- What do you think?"

"Sir, I'd say we have a small silver mine here. I think I could get some of this junk up and running, but I'll need some battloids to help out."

"Petty Officer Jay, what do you think you can do?"

"Well Tug, what I..."

"That's Chief Warrant Officer McMahon, Petty Officer Lee."

"Sorry sir. Anyways, I think I can get us about a half-dozen each of officer battle pods, fighter pods, and about 2 dozen artillery pods on line and running."

"'Traedi tech. Is that what we're reduced to?" Mr Jackson replied sardonically.

"Yes sir- We're going back to the roots of Robotechnology," SE2 Lee replied coldly.

"What?! Oh, ya. Right. The roots. Alright, let's get back to base and report in."

"You want me to drive sirs?"

"Ya, sure Jay, you've behaved yourself" Tug answered.

Back at the base, they made their report directly to the Admiral.

"So, ma’am, it is my opinion there is very little of any use to us there" Lt Jackson was saying. Jay could be seen to be losing his cool.

"Alright then. Petty Officer Lee, please get yourself a cup of coffee."

"Yes Admiral Clemens." Jay knew the Admiral. Besides, he liked coffee.

"So why's he upset THIS TIME, Lt?"

"Ma’am, he's got this harebrained scheme about rebuilding the 'Traedi mecha."

"Tug. You know him. Can he do it?"

"I know he'd try, whether we allow it or not."

"Send him back in."

About 10 minutes later, they found him on the messdeck getting chewed by Senior Chief Chirpa. "You're constantly here! I mean really! Do you do anything useful?"

"But Senior, I already said the Adm..."

"Senior, my bad. He's with me" Mr. Jackson piped up.

"Mr. Jackson sir. I was just saying to Jay here that just because the Adm. tells him get coffee doesn't mean lounge about."

"Actually, Senior, in this case it did. Of course, this is an exceptional case, isn't it Jay?"

"Oh, ya, Senior. Come on, Senior, you know I turn to. Besides, if I wanted to skip out, I'd just go."

"Jay... Alright fine. But don't make a habit of it."

"Roger that Senior. Mr. Jackson, Mr McMahon, I take it the Admirals ready for me?"

"Yes. Come on. she wants to hear your cockamamie idea." Jackson.

"It's not cockamamie, sir."

"Jay, I suggest you tell the Adm. your idea. Other than that, be silent."

"Aye-aye, Mr. McMahon."

A few minutes later they knocked at the Adm.’s door. "Stand by!" A few moments a after that they heard "Enter!"

"Adm. Here he is."

"Petty Officer Lee, I here you got something for me. Let’s hear it."
"Ma’am, respectfully request to get the chalkboard from down the hall."

"Huh? Why?"

"I'll need it to help explain my idea."

"Make it quick."

"Roger that ma’am."

A few minutes later he returned with a chalkboard in tow.

Trying to justify your mecha-in-mecha scheme huh?

Interesting story,and I suppose you have a situation where it might be desperate enough to use.

Still not something I can relate to a standard procedure.

........................
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Another kind of SPAM are the worthless posts that have but one sentence and explain nothing. Please note the key word explain. If you have something to say, back it up with thoughts and reasons. Simply posting to agree or disagree is a waste. If the thread starter wants that simple of an opinion, he may start a Poll

My feelings on this subject lie in the same ball park as Tetsyua's..........

I'm gonna go with Jefffar on this one: Interesting story. Wacky concept.

It's not as if the mecha in mecha thing is new. Strike Force book 8 introduced the Female Power Armor that had a non-transformable battloid serving as the pilot for the suit.

Still like the story, characters need a bit of background though, and i enjoy reading a good fan fic when I get the chance.

One point though, wouldn't S.C. battloids be too small to effectively manipulate the controls of a battle or officers pod? Considering they were designed with a 40 foot + tall pilot in mind.

Nice story. Still not a fan of the mecha in mecha idea, but doesn't take away from the theme of the tale. One thing I didn't like though was the way the characters addressed each other. The biggest flaw was where the admiral scolded the Lt. for supposed disrespect of the senior chief (this is proper way to address said rank btw not senior). The Lt. was in his rights to refer to him as mister or even by just his name. No matter how long the senior chief was in the military and how green the Lt. he still outranks the senior chief. In no way should the admiral taken offense to such and got on his case about it. Was also wondering since these were apparently naval personel what grade was the Lt., JG or SG?
This would hold even more bearing on how much he outranked the senior chief by as a SG is at least 4 ranks higher than a senior chief.

Ok. That is CHEIF WARRANT OFFICER... Uh... ****. Anyways, NOT Senior Cheif. (The senior cheif was a bit part, to express how lack of communications sometimes becomes an issue.) So, in fact, the LT (O-3) is actually 1 grade above the Bosun. (Warrant Officers ARE Officers, if Limited Duty Officers.) As a Warrant would have as many years simple as an Enlisted as a Lt. might have total, SOME respect for expirience is in order. (On that note, the Lt might have the same time in service; It depends on a lot of things, none of which are appropieate to get into here.) What the Adm was REALLY upset was the breakdown of decorum in the Lt. refering to him as "Tug", his common nickname (though she gets away with it).

On a related issue- Erm, YES, technically you must address a Senoir Cheif as such, but MOST of the Senoir's I've met didn't say anything. Matter of fact, I actually was talking to a Senior once (IIRC he was MKCS), and mentioned that, and he said something to the effect that as long as we weren't being disrespectfull he didn't really "trip" on it.

Rear Admiral (Upper Half) Clemens- The real person is currently a Seaman, but she goes before the OCS board this month.
CWO McMahon "Tug"- A BM1 I know (his nickname really IS Tug).
SE2- Self personification (and yes, the straight jacket thing has R/L basis).

Better now?

Oh, right I almost forgot- The hardwares been done for a while now, it's the damned story I tripped on. Cant seem to get past this point. So... Help?

Because if I don't finish the story, it will drive me insane, like a song stuck in your head for years... And for simplicity, and ease of reading, I re-entered some previous parts of the story. Andy

A few minutes later they knocked at the Adm.’s door. "Stand by!" A few moments a after that they heard "Enter!"

"Adm. Here he is."

"Petty Officer Lee, I here you got something for me. Let’s hear it."
"Ma’am, respectfully request to get the chalkboard from down the hall."

"Huh? Why?"

"I'll need it to help explain my idea."

"Make it quick."

"Roger that ma’am."

A few minutes later he returned with a chalkboard in tow. "Ok, ma’am, here's my idea." He started crudely sketching an officer pod. "Ok, my idea is to take one of our worn out battloids, maybe even a VT the RDF left behind, and stuff it into the cockpit of the officer pods and some other stuff. I know it sound a little strange, but my pappy tole me he saw basically that exact thing down in South America. An ostrich with a VT inside. He also tole me a story about when he was young, he saw a pic of a deuce and a half with an armoured personnel carried shell on it's back. What I figure is I can rig the battloid into the 'Traedi pods, then pilot the battloid to get us some firepower."

"What about the armour? It's pretty thin, you know."

"I was thinking, strip out cruiser armour, then use that. Give it easily 2 or 3 times as much armour."

"At 3 to 4 times the weight."

"Our reactor can easily overcome that, ma’am."

"You've got one month to get one on-line and running or I pull the plug."

"One month, ma’am? I'll need access, authorization, priority... Can’t be done, ma’am. Not in a month. Period, no can do, ma’am."

"You've got all access, and priority. And one month."

"Yes ma’am. I'll need people, too."

"How many?"

"At least a three dozen. And we'll have to work on site, in shifts. Ma’am, I'm a Salvage Expert, and I doubt even I can make this happen in just a month."

"How long do you think it will take?"

"At least 2 months for the first one to come on line. Another month to get the bugs worked out."

“You have one month to bring it on line, and 1 week to figure out what's wrong. Dismissed, Petty Officer Lee."

"Aye-aye ma’am."

"Tug, you're going to supervise, make sure he stays on track."

"Aye ma’am."

"Mr. Jackson, you're going to make sure he gets what he needs."

"Aye ma’am. But this isn't going to work. Not like he says it is."

"Let him try. Either way, it keeps him out of trouble for a month."

A week later, Lee rounded up his crew. "Alright, ladies and gentlemen- We're gonna go, we're gonna do this thing, and we're gonna get it done ON TIME, right?!"

"YAH!"

"We got 1 month now, so let's make it happen. Now get on the trucks, and let's GO GET IT!!!"

Everyone started loading up. Lee knew what they really wanted- They had been promised all but a free ride. Just do your job, and you were good to go. Most were coming because of rumours that Tug and Lee had “liberated” a shipment of condoms headed to the Americas. (Well, maybe not “liberated” so much as “stole”, Lee thought.) Guard duty was being handled by R.E.P. people, assisted by G.M.P. Battloids. A couple of worn-out T.C. Recon Battloids were already on-site for heavy labour.



The next month seemed to fly by- With the exception that Lee didn't seem to sleep. Every few hours, it was something else. On one occasion, the gun pods weren't working. Another time, the MT 844 wouldn't fit into the OBP. And then, there were the accidents- Like the reactor that tried to scram itself, the ball bearing that fell on Private Langstrom's foot... On and on. Lee came through with his word, though- The people never had it so good. It was just he himself that hated all life on Earth. Work, work, work, that's all I seem to do here…Just one more week, Jay ol’ boy, and you got it licked man.

Even the armor plating became an issue.

"Listen, Lee, I know YOU think it will work, but I know it won't" Chief Hill was telling him.

"Chief, this is simple- This is my project. Now strip out that bulkhead, cut it to fit, and slap it on. I don't care if it's spot welded, just do it."

"Lee, listen to me- That'll take hours to do, and the pod won't be able to handle the weight."

"Admiral says do it to me."

"Lee, I know you're a scrounge, ok? I understand that. This? This won't work."

"Chief- Never mind. I'll do this my self." Getting on his hand held, he called the Battloid. "Drone Two-One, Plant."

"Lee, this is a waste of time."

"Two-One, go ahead."

"Ya, swing by here real quick." The only reply was a double click.

"Chief, I don't CARE if it's a waste of time. I got 1 week to finish the outfitting. It's done, that's it."

"Alright Lee. I'll do it."

"So kind of you, Chief. Just cut the patterns I marked out. "Two-One, cancel last, proceed to the refer and start cutting." The refer was what they had started calling a particularly cold room. For no apparent reason, the room just would not stay warm.

"Roger that, plant."