Comms Load 18

When she woke up again, Sharren found herself in a simple, white washed office. She was in a light weight mechbody, not her own.  The desk was tidy, if well used. There was a man sitting at the desk, looking a work screen, but from her seat, she could not see what he was looking at.

He glanced up at her. He had a winning smile and understated features. She could not tell his age, and his hair was a perfectly highlighted shade of brown. She knew the type. 2^nd or 3^rd generation gene-mod. That meant earth born. He had on a white ship suit, with grey lettering.  His shoulder chevron proclaimed his rank as commander.  Like most earth folk, he had no jewelry or tattoos that she could see.

“What is your name?” he asked. His tone was warm, not the interrogation she had expected. “Your first name will do. I just want know who I am talking to”

“My name is Sharren” She ended on a note of surprise. The voice coming out of this body was a flat, boyish voice. She searched for a control feature, and found it quickly enough. She spent a short moment a selected a husky female tone form the default setting list. “My name is Sharren” she repeated with more confidence.

The Commander smiled again, and made a note on his work screen.

“I am commander Mills Dicemen. I am surprised that you are female. Most body jobs are, or were, male”. His smile never wavered. He slide a data tablet across the desk, with in her easy reach.  “Well, Sharren, you are in a rough place. Law requires me to destroy your war frame, and send you down to a level III indenture in the body you have now.” He gave her a knowing look, and the tablet in front of her flicked to a display of what she assumed was the mechbody she was in now.  She looked it over briefly.

“This thing is a piece of crap” she said flatly. “It’s inferior to flesh, and fragile. I’d be killed on a Level III”. She Thumbed her way into the more detailed specs, but found little to endear her to this shell. Low power supply, no strength, limited acceleration, and a weak plastic exterior.  Flesh humans were more dangerous.

“Indeed” Dicemen began, after a moment. “That’s what we are here to talk about.  You like being a monster, don’t you?” He did not pause, but while he spoke he changed the display on her tablet to her war frame, the mechbody she had lived in for over 15 years. “I can put you back in there. I can even set you loose” he looked up at her, his smile widening.

“The UN navy does not use cyborgs” She replied flatly. “How could you possibly use my war frame?”

“I need an incident to respond to.  I have a team of mercs ready to do some pillaging, but they need more punch” He was still cordial, but his expression was more guarded. 

“It doesn’t take much punch to pillage…” She was glad the frame she was in had no face. Sharren was not in the mood to frown.

“This a tougher nut. I need a glorious mess, and images of an unstoppable monster.” He brought up some news clips on her tablet. Scenes of burning prefabs and colonists firing shotguns at powered armor.  “This sort of thing. Keeps the dirt farmers paying taxes.” He glanced at her, a bit less of a smile on his face, and then made some notes on his screen.  Her display changed as well, highlighting certain parts of her war frame. New sensors, active armor panels with q-mag screens.

“Upgrades? I thought you would just leave me as I am.”

“I need you tough enough to do the job, and escape.”

“I do this, and I just leave? No follow up?” She made her voice skeptical.

“Until we catch you again. Then you own me more work. You stay out of my way, and you’re just another merc, one more fish in the sea. “Dicemen smiled. “ You are my job security”

Sharren didn’t like the thought.  Still, this was the work she’d been doing for years. Her troupe would land on a new colony and use force and terror to extort from the locals, and leave.  Not a lavish life, but one that was familiar, and could lead to a lot wealth. The improvements to her frame were substantial. She’d need more fuel, but in saver mode, the unit could run for over a year on one F-cell.

“How do I get off world?” she asked after a long moment. “This frame is good, but it can’t fly”.

“You’ll have a team, with a ship and a good lander. They’ve been give and similar deal, and we have a commissar aboard to make sure things go well.” He was smiling again, and looking pleased. “The commissar will bail out as soon as you reach anywhere civilized again. UNCN intelligence will get her home again.”

Sharren was skeptical, but her tablet was now showing the specs of a DEVIL DOG class dropship, and small cargo jumper, one that was new enough not to attract negative attention form most police forces. Either ship was worth a fortune, and the dropship was armed.  DEVIL DOGS were good landers, better in many ways then the Spencers most ships used. She could even go legit with ships this nice.

“What’s the catch” she asked. Her tone was back to neutral.

“This mission is brutal, and you will have one shot to make it work.” His smile change subtly. He grinned with malice now. “You’ll probably be killed, and we will not support you.”  He moved new information onto her tablet. The name on the colony was highlighted. Sharren now understood the catch.

“I’ll do it. Get me some paint for my war frame.“

The commander smiled, and guards escorted her to where her frame was. A tech had set out a paint sprayer. It’s on now, she thought.