Prologues

[Ray of Meep]

Joan, Co-authored by Ray of Meep (GM) and Ikate Keda Studios

???? A.D

Low Earth Orbit, Guiana Spaceport, Aboard Daheim One.

"... And the family medbay is at the end of the hall, to the right." Ulrike Grau pointed forward as she spoke to Joan. Ulrike Grau was unusually pale commpared to planet-born folks of the GDW due to more than a decade of service in space. The brown color of her hair was washed out, but her emerald eyes still glistened. She wore a comfortable grey jumpsuit with torquiose stripes that bore the logo of the small mercenary group: a medieval knight wielding a lance, on a charging horse.

The two ladies were currently standing on the inner floor on one of two rotating habitation modules of the Daheim One. Daheim One itself didn't stand out from the many other space-faring vessels as it waited to undock from the spaceport; the Volksschiff class was a ubiquitous design of the GDW, used even internationally. Little did the other travelers know that Deheim One housed a small but well armed mercenary group... along with several, screaming children.

"Can I go play mum?" The voice of the little girl hanging off Joan asked. Joan was in quite the predicament. She was a bit too proud to accept much in the way of help from the crew of the ship, electing to carry her own gear, and by extension, her childrens bags as well, which were thankfully just large backpacks. Her youngest daughter, Miranda, had gotten tired, and so was now hanging off her mothers shoulders like a monkey, and at the question Joan looked around.

"Oh jesus. Where's your brother Mandy?" Joan asked, momentarily ignoring Ulrike as she continued to look around.

" 'e saw sum bottles and stoppers mum," Miranda said, pointing back the way they came. "They 'ad sum cool baps and 'e just went to see!" She said, frowning. "I wanna go play!"

Joan groaned, dropping some of the stuff and kneeling down to put Miranda down. "Okay Miranda, I 'ave a game fer ya. Go find yer brother, and then come find me. If ya can do it, 'ah'll see what I can do about getting ya some extra cus and jelly tonight, now go," Joan said, sending Miranda off. "And if ya get lost, ask a crewmate where ta go!" Joan shouted as Miranda bolted off around a corner.

"I'm gone to need a joke and a laugh after this is all said and done," Joan sighed, getting back up and picking up all her bags. "Sorry bout that, but you know how dust lids can be. Wan tah do everything at once. Though ah'm glad there's a family medbay. We don't send mission casualties there ah 'ope," Joan said, seeming a little more concerned than joking.

"Yeah, no kidding. We'll keep our bloody business in the command module. These compartments are for us to relax." Ulrike tapped her data watch. "Mont, we've got Mrs. Page's children around. Just don't let them into engineering."

"Excuse me?" Joan snapped at the mention of Page. "Ah never married the git! My last name's Ambrose!" She scolded, looking at Ulrike with a feirce frown. "Ah wasn't about to be some trouble and strife for a man who ah no idea wha he wanted to do in life," She added, muttering at this point as she hefted the bags up and started walking again.

"Oh. I'm sorry Joan." Ulrike was visibly taken aback by her sudden outburst, but stood her ground and walked along with Joan. "That explains why you never mentioned Travis in your application. I didn't know. Last time we talked you were still lovey dovey with him."

"Ahg," Joan groaned. "You're gone make me meet pat and mick if you keep up reminding me of that," She said, shaking her head. " 'e got it in 'is ball o lead tha 'e was gone wear a whistle an flute, open a rub a dub on a station lightyears from 'ere, an ah was just gone 'appily follow leavin me career be'ind!" Joan complained. "Jacob was all twos and eights over tha whole thing, an then ad the nerve to put me through that battle o' his! I say, if 'e wanted so much time with em, 'e shoudn't 'ave gone prancing to the other side o' the galaxy, if I do say so myself."

"This is news, and a shame." Ulrike stopped at a hatch. "Travis was a good soldier. A good person, too. I couldn't imagine what the custody battle must've been like. No wonder you two went radio silent for a couple of years." She unlocked the hatch with a card key, then handed it to Joan.

"Ah would 'ave prefered a good father," Joan said, looking at the hatch. "Not a bloke who goes all sixes and sevens to go to the other side of the galaxy so 'e can spend all our bread an 'oney on getting bhrams liszt all day!"

"Never mind that. This is your home now. Your room should be big enough for you and the six-year old lass. The teenager has his own bunk right across." The room itself was no larger than a small office room, with much of its space taken up by a bed, a collapsible shower, and a desk. The closet and other storage space were built into the floors and ceiling. Every surface was covered with material softer than plastic, with corners and edges rounded and padded further. The whole room was painted an amiable egg white with soft LED illumination.

"Two rooms?" Joan asked, looking around. "Given us two rooms and not even wanting the duke of kent, wha is this all on about?!" She asked, more shocked than anything. "Ah'd be 'appy with a flowery dell an two cots! We've plenty of space on tha ship, no need to give us a reason to coop up Ulrike," Joan said, walking into the room. "Ah really think Jacob 'aving 'is own room isn't the best idea anyway. 'e's only twelve!"

Ulrike shrugged. "We're friends, Joan, and I think Jacob's old enough. He should learn to look after himself, since, you know, what our careers are. You can't baby him forever."

" 'e's my babe, will be till 'e innit," Joan stated, a bit of a defensive cut tinging her tone. "Ah appreciate it though, I really do. The room really would go to better use with someone else," She frowned. "Ah don't want to feel like Ah'm taking someones spot just cause Ive got the youngins."

"Nonsense." Ulrike smiled. "Volksschiffs' are pretty generous with space, and we're a small team. I'm glad to have you onboard." She offered her hand. "And if you want to talk some more, I'll be more than happy to share a beer with you."

"That might be taken," Joan smiled. "Though, I 'ave to get the dust lids all settled in and ready. Ah'll think about the room, if you're insisting, but Ah won't make any promises," Joan said, taking a deep sigh as she crossed her arms, looking at the room. "Thanks again. I was barely keeping me 'ead over water 'for you offered the job. 'ouses are too much for the wonga the GDW pays," She said.

"Any time." Ulrike stepped away. "Just be ready for interplanetary travel in a few hours. We'll be heading for the Neptune Gate and off to the Silbern system for our first mission."

"Absolutely," Joan said, giving Ulrike a nod. "But for now, ah 'ave to go find the youths," She said, closing the door behind her and heading down the hall back the way they came, which was the best place to start looking.

 

[Ray of Meep]

Juan, Co-authored by Ray of Meep (GM) and TheCountryWarrior

???? A.D

Earth, Outskirits of Madrid, unnamed firing range

Juan found himself in the firing range, a frequent stop for him after a lazy day of not much. He often thought it was more akin to the bar for him than a place to practice, he even knew more people here than he didn't. He spent more time here talking to people than he did firing, but on this particualr eve he had gotten himself into a competition with Tim the Ace, an old buddy from the War, a pilot. Juan showed his skill, he was no superhero but he still had a good amount of skill. Bam. Headshot. Bam. Headsot. Bam. Ah frick shoulder shot. Bam. That's his lung. He stopped, placing the sidearm down on the divider in front of him, clicking his tongue. "Tsk. Accuracy dropped off at the end there, but usually the first shot puts them down." He won this particluar competition, and would next head to the handy vending machine to refresh himself.

"That was impressive, you certainly justify your records." An unusually pale, blonde man in a suit greeted Juan in front of the vendor, no doubt one of those folks who spent way too much time in space. He drew a card and offered it to Juan. "Eberhard Grau, and this is my treat."

This was unexpexted, certainly, though not entirely too crazy an idea to him. He took the card and gave it a once over, trying to place the name. "Thanks, though I'm not sure what I did to earn a treat. You with the government? Or are my records that easy to get?"

"You could say that." Eberhard simply nodded. "Let's see..." He pulled out a small datapad and swiped across the screen. "Two tours of duty. Quite eventful too. Counter-terrorist work in the Emirates, multiple firefights in towns dotted across the Arabian peninsula... wonder what your education background is like?" He swiped up and tapped, then raised an eyebrow. "Oh. Hmm. Nevermind that." Eberhard looked back up at Juan. "Have you heard of the Grau Lancers before?"

Juan thought for a second, and shook his head. "No, sorry, can't say that I have."

"Figured. We were just founded a few months ago, and we're looking for people to bust some doors." Eberhard stowed his data pad away and crossed his arms. "Mr. Paddock... for your skills you should be out there as spec ops, maybe an officer. What are you doing, still hanging out in Spain?"

Juan shrugged, sipping away at a freshly purchased beverage. "I'm flattered, but I'm not interested in any planetside work right now. Personal things, you understand. Unless of course it's a ticket off this rock."

Eberhard gave a light chuckle. "I can understand why you don't want to stay on Earth anymore. Good news for you, I do have the ticket. My wife and I used to do work for GDW space command proper. Now we're going at it on our own, somewhat, and we need skilled personnel."

Juan fixed him with a stare, looking the stange man over. A chance to leave would be fantastic. "What would we be doing?"

"Like I said, busting down doors." Eberhard put his hands in his pockets. "More specifically, we'll be taking down pirates and doing counter-terrorism work. It's pretty chaotic up there as well."

"Counter-terrorism? Well that's in my wheel house. What do you mean going it on your own? Mercenary work? Privateering? Seems a bit Wild West."

"Heh. Somewhat. The government gives us money and a mission, and some guidlines, and we get to go about it however we want."

Juan had little to say in response. "Any prerequisites? Do I make an oath? Fake my death? And... how long can I expect to be gone?"

"There's the usual paperwork involved with this stuff. Don't worry about erasing your presence from the public. People up the bureacracy ladder will handle that. As for duration, we might come back here occassionally, but only for missions."

Juan truthfully had little reason to stay. He sipped his drink, and looked to the man seriously. "Alright. You caught me in the right mood boss. Where do I need to go? And when should I be there?"

"You can come with me." Eberhard smiled. "We're going to space."

"... More specifically, we're going to help you pack your luggage, do some medical checks, then launch via the Berlin space port."

"Lead the way captain. I have some guns to pack."

 

[TheFirstOne]

???? A.D

Low Earth Orbit, Guiana Spaceport, Aboard Daheim One.

Beatrix tunelessly hummed to herself as she walked to the ship’s range, holding a few boxes of ammo in her left arm.

“Ah don’ care!” A woman’s voice rang through the hallways. Obviously someone was upset about something. “You may fink i’s all a bubble geh’in a ‘welve ear ol ta fire off baps like i’s nuffing, but you mus’ be all sixes in sevens if you adam this righ’!” The scolding continued. When Beatrix walked into the range, she could see four people at first. Three security guards being yelled at by a very tall and angry woman who sounded like the worst England had to offer language wise. Then, she saw two kids sitting against the wall, looking forlorn as the woman continued her tirade against the security guards.

“Look, lady,” One of the security guards said, holding up his hands. “We didn’t mean any harm! He was interested, what’s the problem with him learning how to handle a firearm? Better he be taught than find one on his own, right?”

“You fink ‘is is a joke, righ’?” The woman asked, her face twisting up. “Da problum is ‘e’s a child! Worse yeh, ‘e’s not even yer child! I swear on me mum, you git I will end ya if’n I evar see ‘im anywhere near a gun wif you ‘round, eh? I’ll be the Barnaby on when ‘e kin use a gun!”

Beatrix blinked a few times, looking between the adults and the kids, before saying, “Oi, you lot,” pointing at the three security guards, “the Bosun needed to talk to you. Sounded about as mad as this lady, so you better get going.”

The woman turned to look at Beatrix, then looked back at the three. “Go on, git. If’n she’s right den I won’t need ta keep goin. Ge’ along now, ya tits,” She muttered, the three quickly walking past the shorter woman.

Beatrix gave the lead guard a wink as he walked by, hoping he got the hint to not actually bother the Bosun. “So,” she said, turning to the other woman, “there are more British people on here than I thought. Good to meet ya, I’m Beatrix Simmons. You are?”

“Joan Ambrose,” Joan said, turning and looking at the two kids who had been sitting there the entire time. The older boy look embarrassed, and the younger girl just looked sad. “Wha am I s’posed ta do wif ya?” She asked. “Ya know be’ah dan ta run off, and I ‘old ya ta bring ‘im ta me.”

“Ah, jus’ ‘ought,” The boy started before letting out a sigh. “Sorry…”

Joan nodded, then pulled a key out of her pocket. “ ‘ake dis. Da ship’s compu’er will ‘elp ya find da room. ‘ake dis as a chance to make up for dis, right?” She asked, holding out the key.

“Yes mum…” The boy said, getting up and taking the key. “Come on Mandy, le’s go,” He said, and the little girl just nodded as the two walked out to head back to the cabin, leaving Beatrix and Joan alone on the range.

“Chil’ren,” She sighed, looking exhausted for the moment. “I’ve been trying ta keep em up an tidy and dey just go and get messy every time,” She frowned, crossing her arms. “Sorry you ‘ad to see dat. Wasn’t my in’ent or nuffin like dat.”

“Oh, don’t worry on my behalf,” Beatrix said, waving off any concerns with her free hand. “Happens when gits don’t think before doing something. Hopefully they keep their range better than they handle other people’s kids,” she added, before walking over to the arms locker.

“Ah,” Joan waved, looking the range over. “Da Grau’s are good mates, dough you can’ always be sure what rough and ‘umble fellow dey may bring on board,” She said, looking Beatrix over carefully. “I take it yer part of da team dey are geh’ing togevah hmm?”

“Yep,” the shorter woman replied, pulling a pistol off the rack. “Just got here yesterday. You in the team as well?”

“I am,” Joan said, frowning a little. “I wouldn’t mind joining ya, but I feel a li’el bad scoldin’ da lad about shootin, and den immedia’ly shootin,” She said, looking down the hall, hugging herself slightly. “Ah fuck… Why couldn’t ‘e just ‘ave a chat wif me bout the damn fings? Den I wouldn’t be takin’ somefing from ‘im.”

“I can see that,” Beatrix said, putting the pistol and ammo down on a table and turning to look at Joan. “Are you...disappointed that he didn’t ask for permission first or do you not want him around guns in the first place?”

“Mainly the first,” Joan said, looking down the range. “Partly the seckin. I dun know, I dun wanna deal wif da idea of ‘im learning ‘ow ta use guns. I’d rahver ‘im git a job as a doctah or a lawyah, not looking at me in deciding ‘e wants to git shot at fer a livin,” She frowned. “When being a soldah is yer only marke’able skill, you run out of op’ions.”

“True,” Beatrix said with a nod. “Shooting’s a good skill to have either way. Take me for instance. Went to medical uni, wondered how to pay for it, then joined the military. Turns out I’m a good shot, so now I do double duty.”

“I fink you missed da point,” Joan said with a frown. “I would raver my kids ta not ‘ave a job that involves baps at all. Plen’y o ofer jobs out dere,” She said, crossing her arms. “But, ah guess ah’ve go’ah git a butchers hook into it, or get the gypsies kiss taken outta me. Naw’mean?”

“Uh,” Beatrix said, before taking a moment to try and parse what the other woman said. “Yeah, you got to deal with it eventually. If either of them are interested in going into the medical field, I can always answer questions that they have, if you want.”

“If they got em,” Joan nodded. “Only way I wanna push em is away from Mili’ary,” She said firmly. “But if dey ‘ave the questions, I’ll make sure in let em know.”

“Sounds good,” Beatrix replied, picking up the gun and ammo. “Feel free to join me, but I get it if you have other business to attend to.”

Joan looked at the guns for a moment, but then sighed. “No, I’ve go’ah go ‘elp the dustbin lids get seh’eled in. Keep ‘em away from Barney Rubble, make up some bubble and squeak. Probably ‘ank Marvin after the flight,” She sighed. “Fanks for geh’in those guys away from me. I don’t fink the Bosun actually wan’ed dem,” She said, a grin crossing her features.

“Not particularly no,” Beatrix admitted with a small smile. “Think he would have cracked up though.”

“Well, ‘ave fun!” Joan waved. “Ah’ve go’ah mess ta deal wif,” She offered, leaving the range to go take care of her kids.