Hooray

I suck. (really I always meant this, but was afraid some folks would be mad)Why did I fall that time.....

Whirl

All fallen leaves of light's descent
We send upon the hardest bent
And fall again lest we be known
Nonce are others for the throne
When seeking once and finding sought
Forever seek what justice wrought
Albeit pained as some see fair
Never was my prison there
A cell of air would keep me still
Were it not for winter's chill
Now with me is captive bliss
Found solely in the fleeting kiss
Thrice be damned and twice be too
I tarry naught but dread for you
The hearth I spent to divine fire
Only to suffer at harm's desire
Now and now, turn here again
To my unending abrupt chagrin

Getting Chillier 'ere

Still in teh IZ peeps. It has become Groundhog Day, with few exceptions. Much love to all, and a reminder..... leave me alone @yahoo.com I can't check Myspace very often.....as in, almost never. :(

jesus we have newbs

and n00bs

Cura, Corny Knuss Bits? Or how about you just stop not caring so much you wound me? Would it honestly kill you to give a damn about me everyday?

:P



CMT - Hope you're well

AMB- Love ya

SMM-Love your new pics, very cute but they don't even come close to doing you justice. (Not that any camera ever could)

Miss all you folks

Communication and address

Okay all,

Here is the address for both US Postal Service and for Fed-Ex and such. (Those shipping DHL/UPS/RPS/Fed-Ex or any other package company, use the second underlined address for it please) If you are sending shoebox packages or smaller, use the first italic address ( USPS).But, since no one uses it, I am gonna make it unreadable!!!! yeah!

SSG Tucker, Kevin M.

ICE/JIDC Camp Cropper

Unit 42129

APO, AE 09342

SSG Tucker, Kevin M. (JIDC)

Bldg. 606

Camp Cropper

Unit 42129

APO, AE 09342



Also, please use leave me alone @yahoo.com to send me any further messages that need responses, as I can access it more often, including from work. Myspace, I can only get to once every few days now. Thanks, and much love!!!!!



Kevin

Break from story to update folks

Yup, in Kuwait. All is well. Hot like before. :) Phones are too expensive here, I will call once I am in Iraq. Much love. Someone try to tell my mother I am ok, please. I could not get a hold of her before I left, I think she was the only one I never talked to. Anyway, gotta go get some grub. Love.

PLS-7Z continued

As I climb the ladder to the cockpit, I receive a transmission in my earpiece: "Cancer Lead, Cancer Lead, Zodiac."

"This is Cancer Lead, go ahead, Zodiac."

"Proceed with Cancer Trident to Phase line Bravo, Mark Stat 32, over."

"Copy, enroute." After I confirm receipt of the transmission, I shoehorn myself into the cockpit of the 35 ton war machine and cycle up my secondary lasers to beam a powered down version of a warshot. Larger mechs have additional arrays, but on a "light" mech like the Carapace, there is barely enough room for the weapons, armor and equipment needed to talk some mechwarriors into actually entering combat whilst pilotting one.

I toggle the Multi-track system and both the left and right arms track in a short arc, one aimed at the mech one-point-five kilometers to my west, the other at the mech perched just under a kilometer away on a cliff face to my northeast. Both beams lance out, forming a signal and a transmission path upon which I begin to have a conversation with my boys.

PLS-7Z continued

Wooden doors. They would be a sign of wealth here, if it weren't for the sorry condition. Musta been a long ago transpo for some merchie with more money than sense. No windows on the ceramicrete, just grafitti. How is there is always grafitti in the merc districts? No kids here, just sorry assed gun bunnies and their dupes, marks and bosses. Not even any pilots or mechwarriors here from what I have seen.

Time to see if the cat can drag something in...

The unit rep is a woman. Not too common out here in the periphery, but, as she looks up from a datpad, and lances me with her eyes, I feel like I need to check my AMS for inbound. Not a random hireling, this woman. Gray hair flecked with what must have once been brown, and brown eyes that reflect a million negative emotions combine to tell me this one has seen much.

"You got business, or are you just gonna gape at me 'til I space your ass?"

I have business for her, "Need a lift. Terra."

"Terra ain't on the schedule for a few months. Since you obviously know we are going there, you may want to tell me why you wanna ride with the Blades."

"Can't afford regular fare on a liner....well, can't pay the regular price. All I have is trade in if you are willing."

"Terra is a long way from this rock, and while we are in business for a few C-bills here and there, you don't look to have anything worth the price of steerage in a Union from the Exodus fleet. Change my mind or piss off."

I pull a datapad from my pocket. Nearly 40 years old, it is a relic of my own formative years, and something I only have because I am a one helluva good pack-rat, junk style. "How about this in trade, balance for cost difference to be paid in C-Bills on arrival, Sol system. You don't even have to get me planetfall on Terra, just in-system will do fine." I slide the worn out data pad across her plasteel desk, and she glances at the readout.

"Nice pic, but that ain't proof. Lots of folks claiming they got Old SLDF stocks around."

"It is real enough. In fact it, is already here on this asteroid, and for a holo-proofed ticket on that Hunter you have in orbit, the locker number, combination and sentry decode for the N type Maxi inside to keep unwanted curious types from taking it."

"Okay, so maybe you're serious. How do I know it is legit? Brian Cache, sure, but there ain't no way to prove that. There are only 5 merc outfits I know that have ever acquired Type-4C Man-pack PPCs, and they don't exactly let them go. No house military woulda just let someone take it either. What's the deal? Talk fast, lunchmeat, you got 20 seconds before the cavalry gets here and you explain it to them."

I know she punched the hold-up alarm nearly a minute ago. She did it as soon as I walked in the room. I also know, that it take the OP Police at least 4 minutes to get here, since there are only 8 of them, all obese, and all watching skin vids when I cased their station 45 minutes ago. "I'll humor you. In the future though, please don't bother trying to bluff me. Press page down."

She presses the pad, and her eyes lose focus for a second. "This is time stamped, holographically. Those are real? You have them? Here?" She is hooked, and I know now that the ticket is really gonna cost me what I planned originally. She can't know that it is immaterial to me, but the cash value of what she is looking at in the display cannot be ignored.

"Yes, yes, and yes. You can see that they are not 4Cs now, and there are 12. Considering that I know that no-one has ever sold a confirmed, Type-5, Block C Man-Pack PPC, I figure I can name my price. No more questions. One ticket. One-way. Terra. Myself, and point eight-seven tonnes of cargo in bonded containers. Agreed?"

"Oh sweet, sweet fortune, yes. Agreed, with one request."

"Yes?"

"Your name, please?"

"Call me Marshal."