Somewhere in the dank metal a sound churned, spewing out between the pipes in the form of a low whine of releasing air, the mechanic tending the machine lifted his head to regard the direction from whence it came. A sudden bang and the resulting pings of metal-on-metal let him knew yet another of the pressure valves of the coolant system had burst. That was the third one in two days!
"Better get on it, Sander, before the reactor melts down," came a sarcastic voice from behind, and the man, Sander, spun on his heel and gave a salute. It was the lead mechanic, and the star in the rank insignia on his jacket denoted as much. The bitter old technician, Fyura, lifted a thick hand and pointed toward the pipe which was now letting out a jet of steam.
"Move it, freebirth! Now!" he shouted, and Sander scooted passed him in the narrow passage, taking his spanner and a pipe segment with him.
Life wasn't the best aboard the Harmonious Shriek wasn't exactly pleasant for Sander, he'd much more enjoyed the safety and relative quiet of his homeworld. But now, after the Council had decided that they were to invade the Inner Sphere, the Clan mechanic, a freebirth, had been forced into duty to honor Sudeten and the Khan.
He pulled the broken pipe section free after loosing it with his wrench, and proceeded to replace it under the scrutiny of his commanding officer. Once that was finished, he was ordered to the main deck to assist with repairs there, and, as he was trying to avoid further interaction with Fyura, he did so post haste. The lift, after a brief wait, took him through the layers of the Dropship to the main deck where the Battlemechs were housed, their gleaming metal catching the shine of his eyes in the dimly lit bay as he stepped from the lift access. For a moment, he admired the first one he came across, a large, heavy 'mech, everyone in the Clan knew what one looked like; it was a Timber Wolf, only this one had a large hole through one of it's shoulder-mounted missile racks, and sparks flew from the torch wielded by the mechanic working on it.
It took a good five minutes to cross the length of the deck to the other side, and Sander was flanked by Battlemechs the whole way, until he reached the small office reserved for the operations manager overseeing the productivity of the repair facilities. It was here he would need to inquire more on his assignment, and he saluted the man in greeting when he stepped into the doorway of the room.
"What's this then?" the manager asked, rolling his shoulders.
"Technician Sander reporting, sir," the freebirth said, and watched as the stocky man reached over to grab his data pad. He touched at the screen a couple times, then nodded slowly and glanced between Sander and the device.
"Says here, Bay Seven-B, a KFX-C, designation 0-1A63-C. Mechanical failure of right arm actuator due to explosive ordinance," he rattled off, and Sander nodded to show he'd understood before he turned to leave only after thanking the other man. It took another couple of minutes to back-track his way down the long set of bays, until he reached bay Seven-B. Inside he found the light 'mech, covered in bullet holes and coated with the ash left over from missile explosions on it's right side. It looked as if the actuator on it's elbow indeed had seen better days. He stopped to pick up a bag of tools from the workbench at the front of the bay, and headed inside, toward the ladder he would use to elevate himself to the arm of the Battlemech.
Voices in the bay, however, alerted him to the presence of two pilots, one of which he could only assume was the pilot of the KFX he now stood at the feet of.
"It was the least honorable battle I've ever fought," said the pilot to his star mate, whom shook his head slowly.
"The freebirths were running for their lives, hiding behind women and children because they thought we'd have a qualm killing them. Instead, we just vaporized the whole lot. Best not to have them getting in the way of the invasion... But the rest ran, like scared puppies with their tails between their legs, all the way to Barcelona. Star Captain Alden mentioned that we were going to follow them- right into the Inner Sphere."
By now, Sander had climbed up to the arm of the KFX, and the sound of sparks from his torch filled the bay. He had only been at work a few minutes when the pilot shouted up at him over the noise.
"Hey! Freebirth! Don't ruin my 'mech or it'll be your head over the bandits' this time. Those bloody ******** are just as bad you vermin when it comes to the invasion, and don't you forget it!"
He bit back the overwhelming urge to say something, and the even larger urge to sabotage this man's machine. Ultimately, he knew, that one day... One day, even the trueborn warriors would respect him. He didn't know how, he didn't know when, but it would happen. Sander was far too determined for it not to. He was a mechwarrior by blood, even if his blood wasn't that of those born in the sibkos.
For a moment, he stopped, looked up to the cockpit of the Kitfox, and pondered how life might be different for him if he'd been allowed a Trial of Position. Maybe it would've been him yelling at the tech not to screw it up? Or maybe he still would've failed, like they all assumed he would, because of his inferior birth?
Whatever the case, Sander allowed his pride to sink just enough to complete his work. The invasion was scheduled to begin tomorrow. His mind wandered as he worked and, after a time, he caught himself looking out the window at the back of the bay, at the stars which held his destiny. Somewhere out there, there was a world yet undiscovered by him, and on that world, lie his fate.
The burning sensation as he overheated his protective glove made him yelp and focus back on his work, he had to finish soon...