The Shuey Baw Monastery

[Ciata]

A teacher Ciatan approaches the head master,

"Head Master, we may have devised a sufficient defence against nuclear threat."

"Really teacher, tell us."

"Sir, nuclear weapons use enriched uranium-235 and you know that all different elements have a different charge."

"Yes, go on."

"Well, with the proper resources, we may be able to design a electronic magnetic pulse emiter that is tuned for the specific charge of uranium-235 , nutreulizing the fuel for the weapon, and making it harmless."

"Very good work teacher, what do you lack?"

"Only the resources and materials needed to build it. We do not store such things here as you know, though I believe our friends may be able to help us."

"Yes, I will ask them, and I dought they will refuse."

[The Union of Tinis]

"A magnetic pulse?" asks Major Illias with a slightly confused look. Surrounded by a sea of other officers organizing prepairing for the new troops arriving later in the afternoon, the head of the operation looks at the Ciatan teacher before him. "Analyst Scron, what do you think?"

The half distracted raccoon looks up from his computer and say, "Oh, magnetic resonance for the Uranium? Just one moment." A few key strokes later on the laptop he continues, "Major do you give clerance for aqua level security?"

"I do."

Tap tap tap. "Current research on the subjet suggests it might be the key to the Llewellyn's nuclear surpression techniques. Our own research is incomplete however what they have figure out thus far is that the power needed for such a device is enormus and there may be some side affects to other materials near the target. The power consumption is needed to force the trillions of electron proton collisions that would renormalize the Uranium into a safer non-fissible element. And there is a possibility that if the process is done incorrectly it could destabalize the Uraninum to force premature fission, or worse, create unknown X factors that are still being studied."

Analyst Scron notices the majors continued confusion.

"Basically, the pulse would it a variety of electronmagnetic frequencies that would force a small number of electrons to colide with the nucleous of the Uranium atoms. Electrons are negatively charged, protons are positively charged. When they combine into neutrons, they cancel out. The only extra ingrediant you need is neutrinos, and the universe is filled with those already. A simple pattern slip device can tie those into the reaction. But still, there is the energy requirements to crush subatomic particles. Usually that kind of thing requires a power plant able to power a small city. I don't know if we could get suffient power out here to run a device on our own."

"Do we have any other components?" asks the Major.

"I could get home office to send us a couple pattern slip devices to handle the neutrions. As for the actual pulse array, if any of those mechs have magnetic based weapons, it might serve as good basis for the pulse antenna."

"Alright," says the Major turning back to the teacher. "Thank you for the suggestion. I'm pretty sure if we cobble this thing togeather, it might work, but its no gurantee. If there is any bomb shelters in the monastery, I suggest you begin having everyone move towards those. If we fail or mearly make a nuke go off earlly, it might be your own chance at survial." To the officers around him. "As to the rest of you, contact the other camps and start getting this plan on the road. I don't plan on being vaporized this month so get to it, double time!"

[Ciata]

The head master hears of the two possible difficulties,

"Hmm...so all we need is power and a percise frequincy, that shouldn't be a problem, after all, we did devise the heaven stones, which are also miniture cold fusion reactors themselves that dont require enriched fuel, power should not be a problem, nor should finding the correct frequincy to opporate the device on should it Master?"

"No, finding the power shall be an easy task, as should the adjusting of the frequincy, all we need to know is where the devices are so we do not have to have too wide of a blast radius for the device."

"Good, now I shall go attend to Opalance."

[Baradun]

The Ghostwolf's co-pilot blinks and then nods slowly at the rather odd request of the Tinisian officer.

"Yes, we do carry extra PPC's. What's this for?

"Say that again? Nuclear fission surpressor? Well I suppose that would be rather usefull, though I would like some assurances that it won't interfere with our own equipment.

"No, no fission reactors, only fusion.

"Alright, I'll have one of techs set you up with an extra. Meet him on the hangar deck in five, he should have it all nicely wrapped up for you.

"No that's quite alright, compliments of Baradun; we'll even stick a little card on it just so you know."

Back on the hangar deck a thick-set beaver gets the rather odd message and shrugs, sauntering over to the extra weapons and picking out a PPC, summoning a couple of the power-armour equipped guards to lift the two and a half ton weapon out of its cradle and carry it over to the entrance, just in time to meet the Tinisian technician and his escort.

The beaver salutes, right paw facing out and thumb spread a bit.

"Technician Gilles Longtooth. Here's the PPC you requested, my son, compliments Baradun. I hope what you have planned doesn't do anything serious to our fusion reactors, they're a right devil to cold-start."

He looks at the escort and back at the weapon.

"Come to think of it I'll send the meatshields to help you with it. I expect them back in one piece, though, mind you."

The powered-armours just glare at the beaver as they carry off the PPC causing him to burst out lauging.

The "meatshields", two rather large foxes in heavy power-assist armour with heavy machineguns strapped over their backs, follow silently (apparently) behind the Tinisian technician, occasionally looking at each other and then scanning from side to side again.

[gbwt]

As the second and third waves of RACEV's entetrs the atmosphere, the technitians of GBWT get wind of plan to use a disruptor. A quick analisis and a swift pass through sevral security levels, and the technitians have a problem.
"Sir, we have aproblem. If our allies atempt this plan to nutrelize the bomb, there is a very good chance that meny of our own tool and computers will be ruined. We recomend that we use one of our satilites stationed overhead to track and eliminate the rebel army. It shouldn't take us ong to find if we utilize our entire network, and then it will just be a mater of a few shots at most, dependng on the size of the rebel army."
sevral runners dash off to relay this option to the freindly HQs.

[Ciata]

One of the Masters takes the message from GBWT for the Head Master,

"Yes, I understand. The Head Master is with Opalance now, working on him, attempting to revert him back to the way he was. Please feel free though to attack them before they get in firing range, but remember, if things go too badly for them, they may use the nuclear device before we are ready to nutrealize it in a last resort."

[The Union of Tinis]

On board the Toson II which hovers 30,000 feet above the Monastery, Captain Vox cues up the signal from Major Illias.

"Hello captain, any sign of trouble?" asks the major.

"No major forces have entered our outer watch perimeter. I got my analyst working to the bone decoding anomalous readings since day one though. How's things down stairs?"

"Analyst Scron is doing his best to get the doo-hiky put together. And there's a chance this thing won't even work. We got the high tech stuff earlier today, they're attaching them to the particle projector device now. They're still trying to figure out the proper frequency and a good way to hook up the various sources of power that have been volunteered. I don't know about these heaven stones being fusion reactors or what have you, but if they get us the power, then that's alright in my book. Of course Scron still has no idea how to convert their heebie jeebie light shows into pure electric AC but hopefully the techs that are helping out will figure that one out. But I am going to have to thank Baradun's 'meet shields' when I have a chance for their help in getting some of the bigger equipment place."

The bear in the airship nods. "Any attacks or suspicious persons?"

"Not since the first day with the gun fire in the neighboring valley. Still not sure what that was about, but I got someone working on that. We've posted the notices of the agreement. Of course the other troops don't have to follow our restrictions. As for the rebells, everyone's keeping an eye on their movements with satellites and the like. They appear to be moving, if slowly at the moment.

"Oh, and there's rumors of some sort of second coming of Opalance. Haven't been to the monastery proper itself to confirm this, but the locals seem excited about it."

"Well if their leader has returned from the dead, I guess congratulations are in order for our furiends," remarks Captain Vox. "And before we sign off, we have detected your reinforcements coming in. The airship Cenpalis and a small fleet of helicopters appear to be coming in from the north. I've not been given any word of confirmation, but they might be bringing one of the big wigs in to oversee our little war to be. So don't be surprised if you're suddenly at the beck and call of one of the council."

The growl of the major can be heard over the radio. "I hope Captain, that we can keep this remark off the record, but I am beginning to loath the political maneuvering they're doing with us."

"Your comment is off record, for I have the same view. We're going back into stealth mode. We'll contact you again in twenty four or when the calvary gets here. Toson II out."

------

"Major?" asks Analyst Scron.

"Yes Analyst?" responds Major Illias to the raccoon.

"Well we've managed to isolate a set of five frequencies, narrowed down from the fifty thousand home office sent us. We'd require a band of super computers to do any more, so a test run might be the only way to be sure of the right one."

"Sorry Scron, but we don't have the time for a test run. Narrow it down to one."

"And what about targeting?"

The realization hits the major. Illias looks over to the spot near the monastery were the fission suppressor is being constructed. The device has quickly grown beyond the capacity of even the Baradun mechs.

"Well crap. Um... Any idea?"

The Analyst nods. "If we could get the Toson II down here to provide at least fifty percent of the lift when moving it, we might..."

"Can't. Toson II is our best means of long range surveillance and our key to air superiority."

The raccoon meekly agrees. "Then we should probably call in another."

"You might be in luck," Illias smiles. "The Cenpalis is due to arrive here later today. You might ask its captain if they can help." Illias begins to turn to get back to his more standard duty of organizing and running the Tinisian ground troops.

"One more thing!"

With a sigh. "Yes?"

"The GBWT furs are worried about disruptions from the device on their equipment. We can't rule out such affects. What should we tell them?"

"Do you have a recommendation Analyst." Illias is quickly growing tired of the geeky raccoon's conversation.

"I don't know except stay clear of the device when its used."

"Then tell them that. Now get back to work."

"Yes sir!"

[Baradun]

Meanwhile...

On the ridgeline Baradun's artillery mechs stand in wait, two keeping constant lookout while the other two goof off or sleep, usually playing some sort of game against each other using the terminals.

Shortly before noon the wolf on the left flank in one of the Energy Weapon mechs pauses his game and blinks having seen something out of the corner of his eye. He turns on optical magnifiers and looks down into the lower valley, scanning it at roughly 100x magnification, blinking and grinning to himself before going on coms.

"Look alive my fleabag brethren, it seems the rebels are here. Full squad of scouts in the lower valley, 7,384 meters; that's close enough for the heavy lasers. Requesting permission to open fire."

The Gracon blinks and looks up, having been napping himself; the two wolves who were keeping watch grumpling audibly over the intercom about having been out-spotted by the one off-duty.

"Mraw? Oh, rrright...scouts in the lower valley. Are you sure they're scouts?"

"Yes, I doubt refugees would be that circumspect about keeping out of sight. That and their patches are the rebel insignia that was supplied to us by the Ciatans."

"Then yes, terminate them, but see if you can do it as quickly as possible, I would like to see if we can take them out before they can communicate back. Take the three that are closest to each of your positions, bonus steaks if there's no radio-traffic."

The mechs gently shift their laser assemblies, the myofiber ligaments moving with slow movements to land the targetting retuciles squarely on the unsuspecting scouts before firring in sych, instantly vapourising the nameless intruders before they can even comprehend what has happened.

"Hostiles neutralised aaaand...no radio traffic. Good work. Dropship Blackhammer, please report this latest development to our allies, I think they will be quite interested to hear about it. Also warn them that there could be snipers out there."

"Aff, Captain, reporting now. Probably just in time; too, the guards have returned to the Ghostwolf from delivering that PPC I told you about earlier."

Gracon grins and sits back with a little trumphant smile on his muzzle.

"Excellent. Any news on our reinforcements?"

"Aff, sir, they are five minutes out now, proceeding at full speed."

"Excellent, inform them of that as well, we should have some sort of defense against an ballistic missile within the hour."

*****Five minutes later******

The dropship Raging Chicken thrums quietly overhead as it slows and flies over the gate dropping in five scout-mechs, weighing approximatly 40 tonnes each, onto the ground in front well ahead of the GBWT forces. They represent a more fearsome apperance than the Assault mechs, despite their smaller stature, bristelling with coms gear and long-range anti-tank and aircraft weaponry.

Commanded by a lean rabbit with the rest being piloted by two equally lean foxes and a pair of raccoons the begin to immediately proceed into the lower valley, spreading out and running flat out at 80+ Kph but slowing down to maybe 10 as the enter the more densely forested region, carefully picking through the area before returning an hour later, having found nothing else.

In the meantime the the Raging Chicken gently sets down near Ghost Wolf and begins unloading the portable ABMS with the help of the garrison soldiers from each dropship and all four technicians; the entire device up and running by the time the scouts get back.

"Cottontail to Black Panther, sector clear. Those were definitely preliminary scouts."

"Aff, Cottontail, return to the dropship, I'd like scouting runs done every two hours; when the party starts fall back to Blackhammer and provide fire-support for our allies and AA cover. Any fur that tried to attack over this area would have to be insane...On second thought, I want you to take a quick jaut up to the top of the ridges and check on the neighbouring valleys, but same thing anyways. Quiaff?"

"Aff Black Panther, moving out."

[Ciata]

As the scout mechs go on one of their scouting runs into the steep valleys which are always filled with snow and evergreens at lower levels their movements are being watched carefully by feline eyes far off.

"Are the mechs within the claws yet?"

"Yes sir, they are about to be in the middle of the circle of our men."

"Good, prepare to give the signal out to our Ciatan ambush team."

"Yes sir."

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Soon in the valley, already scrorched with lasers and blood a signal goes out as the scouts mechs enter the center of the alotted area. Some two score Ciatan rebels, their fur prefectly suited for the cammo in the area due to it being mainly white and trapping in heat instead off giving it off to heat sensors, spring out of their snow burrows, each armed with TOW anti-armour missles which they discharge into the nearest mech they can find.

[Baradun]

The mech, the forty ton scout operated by one of the raccoons falters for a second under the first two massive explosions then shakes itself off, a spark or two comming off the myofiber bundles in the right leg that were very shallowly penetrated. The bundles are automatically de-powered with coolant being cut off from the open wound and coolant to the other bundles in the legs being increased along with power to the artificial ligaments.

"F@#$ing Stravech @#$hats!" is the only thing heard over coms as the coon switches to infrared view, instantly picking up the rest of the missiles as the anti-missile systems react, blowing fourteen of the remaining missiles away before they move five meters from the launch tubes, another two rockets hitting the upper torso and causing an electrical short in the targetting systems which are pretty much useless at the moment anyways and disabling most of the upper-level weaponsystems followed quickly by the left arm with the AT gun being demolished by two well-coordinate missiles, the only thing preventing an ammunition explosion being a set of internal ammo cases made of high-carbon steel."

The mechwarrior continues cursing as he switches to his best close-range defensive weapon, a single Flamer, a weapon that uses plasma from the reactor core as a close range flamethrower, the other four scouts running in as fast as they can while the coon pours hot plasma over the territory, instantly incinerating a quarter of the attacking force while he tries to limp backwards to the safety of the artillery cover.

"MAYDAY MAYDAY! This is mechwarrior Blackstripe! Hostiles have been engaged in force! Repeat, engaged in force! Leg actuators have taken significant damage, targetting systems down, weapon systems variously inactive!"

The remaining four mechs charge down on the remaining six rebels, the long-barrelled artillery guns firing one volley and eliminating four in a spray of blackened snow and flesh and knocking the last two rebels unconcious before skidding to halt long enough to pick them up gingerly with their articulated right paws and try and cover their retreating comrad, all systems on hightened alert for an expected second wave; cycling bettween IR, normal visual and UV spectrums in an attempt to spot any would-be pursuers.

"Blackstripe, this is Black Panther, we read you. Cottontail, get your team out of there, Blackstripe if you can not make it back use the self-destruct. Quiaff?"

"Aff, Black Panther...I can limp it back but the old kit will be outta commission for at least a week, took some nasty internal damage."

"Aff, Blackstripe, bring her home. Cottontail, what is the situation down there?"

"Not great, sir, Blackstripe vaped about half of the force and his AMS did not kick in for the first two missiles and still let another two through. We have two potential prisoners, though I am not sure if they survived."

"Aff Cottontail, bring them in; we will give them to the Ciatans to deal with, they might have some intelligence we could use; otherwise they might be a good bargaining chip."

"Aff, sir."

The mechs limp back to the cover of the artillery mechs, transmissions going out to the local commanders while sparks continue to fly from Blackstripe's machine, limping along at half-speed, Blackstripe himself bleeding slightly from having been knocked around in the cockpit. (the word for scrotum generally used to describe the control-center for an aircraft where the pilot resides has been censored)

[gbwt]

The 30-some dropships come to rest above the monastary. Some quick radio comands are exchanged and the ships all split up. Several head for the next valley over where rocket fire had taken place, while others move around to spread their cargo to other valleys for more suport. One flys over to a yet unclaimed valley, and opens fire on the vegitation bellow with it's twin Vulcan cannons. The area now cleared of vegitation and any enemy troops that may have been there, it touches down and the back hatch drops. 3 Space-Boys move out and start to probe the nearby forest while a large, aperently 6 legged contraption is moved out of the hold of th drop ship. 2 mini guns set in ball turets are positioned in front, while it's twin rail cannons are slid and locked into place. The Space-boys, haveing finished their sweep of the woods, move back over to the crab cannon as it begins to accend the ridge wall to get a good firing position. The drop ship takes off and joins up with the rest of the ships that have preforemd similer tasks in flying patrols and hunting down any encroching scouts. Some RACEVs have unloaded heavy stationary turets at canyon intersections while others have unloaded more troops. Sevral have landed at sevral stretigic points to be used as makeshift hospitals.

A RACEV lands behind the clearing where the Mech was atacked and 30 combat furs and 15 Space-Boys hustle out and move to cover the retreating mechs while the drop ship takes off again.
"Need a little help?" calls out one of the furs in Space-Boy armor while scanning the area and sweeping back and forth with his right arm containing a flamethrower.

[Baradun]

The mech limps past, the other two walking backwards behind it, loudspeakers comming on with a sharp twang from the wounded one.

"Not really, but thanks anyways. Got to get back to the monestary and get repairs done. The damage is pretty extensive but she still walks. Tag a few for us, we're taking the prisoners back to the Ciatans."

When they reach the monestary the prisoners are still out cold and are gently lowered into the waiting arms of the Ciatan guards before the mechs move back the the Raging Chicken, Blackstripe being looked after by the medics and his mech by the technicians while the remaining four scouts regroup near the defensive positions of the Assault mechs.

[Ciata]

*Ting* "Uhhh...."

One of the combat furs slumps over with a hole nearly an inch wide through his forehead.

"Snipers! Gah! Grrrr....."

another falls over, bullet through the chest as the rest scatter and look for cover back in the RACEV.

[gbwt]

The combat furs scater and take cover behind the trees while the Space-boys scan the moutain sides for the snipers. The glint of a scope, the slightly abnormal thermal reading... There! actualy, it was the suits AI that spotted the first one. The suits wearer raises his left arm, and fires a small rocket at hsi target, blowing the fur, and his spotter, to bits. A second sniper is identified and the Space-Boy with the mini gun takes aim and opens up, peppering the sniper and the area around him with bullets. At this point, the RACEV swoops back in, putting itself between the troops and the snipers, and lets loos a withering hail of bullets into the hillside, convincing the snipers that it would be a good idea to keep their heads down.
The two shot furs are quickly dragged into the RACEV and the first is pronounced dead. The second however, is still alive...

"Damnit Sarge, i've been shot!" screems the wounded fur.
"Quiet privite or they wont be able to patch you up. Shut up and hold still, that's an order!" shouts Sargent at Arms Keel. One of the RACEV pilots, who plays double roll of gunner and medic, looks at the private.
"Well, you're one lucky SOB kid. You can thank our techs and your government for giving you that hardend chest plate. It just saved your life," he says, as he pulls out the snipers round from the vest. "It looks like you have some broken ribs and maybe some internal bleeding though, but your one damn lucky kid. Didn't buy and lotto tickets lately, did you?" he jokes, with a nervose laugh. The rest of the combat furs stay in the RACEV as the hardend Space-Boys hunt our the remaining snipers.

[The Union of Tinis]

"This is Analyst Wa from the Toson two high above you furs," comes the message apprantly from a communication satallite, aimed towards the monastery on the frequencies most commonly used by the defending nations. "I'm contact you now via fourth party means to keep the Toson's location hidden while its in stealth mode. We've been observing the skirmish down there and in a few seconds we'll have some target data for everyone to feast on. Real quick, this analysis is not perfect but with any luck it will point you in the right direction. Okay, here we go.

"Eight eight percent probability that the scouts just poped in from a rebel forward outpost. Most likely location, three miles, fifteen degrees west from south. Most likely a cave or abandoned house but foilage prevents confirmation of either. Good chance of early warning sentries of course and margine of error of the location is one square mile... well a circle of that areas. I half to go now to prevent a tracing of our little link here, good luck and... Some Tinisian reinforcements are approximatly one hour away. Toson two out."