Genre: Science Fiction
About MaxtacLocation: Sydney Australia Home Region: Age:40 Favorite novels: Southern Vampire Mysteries, LotR, Atlantis Found, Hitchhikers Guide, Honor Harrinton (all of them!), Path of the Fury... so many more! Favorite writers: Charlaine Harris, David Weber, Douglas Adams, Steven King, Tolken, Ann Rice, Clive Cussler... Favorite music: Movie Soundtracks Non-noveling interests: Roleplaying, PC Games, Mixed Martial Arts, Cricket, tennis, movies. |
Joined: October 14, 2004 This Year: Municipal Liaison NaNoWriMo History: NaNoWriMo posts: 30 NaNoWriMo buddies: 13
|
|
Brief Author Bio: After being persecuted during my teenage years for an inability to speel, I gave up writing seriously for quite a few years. As my 30's hit, I rediscovered my love of both telling stories, language and it's shaping, and spell checkers! :) For the past 10 years I've been writing bigger and bigger works, and even finishing some of them too (like last years Nanonovel, the story actually done at 72K words). Sluggish editing of that one aside, I look forward to Nano each year, and invariably get excited about writing all over again as November draws close. I've been ML or co-ML for my region, Sydney Australia, for the past 3 years, and again this year once Lindsey catches up on the updates! Looking forward to it all. Bring on NOVEMBER!!! |
|
Synopsis: Netbattletech Hardcore - Pseudonym for Armageddon Book 2 - Ground War
In the tumultuous future of 3070, humankind has spread out across hundreds of light-years, colonising literally thousands of worlds. At one time, the known galaxy was ruled over by a benevolent regime – The Star League - based on Terra – old Earth – but no more. The human sphere fragmented, resulting in literally hundreds of large and small factions’ battling over the planets of an area of space called the Inner Sphere. Into this ever changing warzone came the Clans, genetically engineered warriors from far off toward the galactic north, the remains of the Star League Defence Force that left the IS when it all went to hell. Bread for war and with far superior technology, they fought their way into the IS, claiming that Terra was their birthright, and they would not stop until it was reclaimed.
The centuries preceding 3070 saw great leaps forward in the arts of war. The pinnacle of this refinement became the Mechwarrior, trained in the piloting of devastating weapon systems called Battlemechs; stories-high humanoid combat machines with the destructive output of a battalion of regular tanks. A few short decades before, a lance of four ‘mechs could take over an entire planet, however with great improvements in manufacturing after a ‘dark age’ of technology in the IS, hundreds of these awe inspiring combat machines could clash on any of hundreds of worlds, laying waste to each other, and often to the planets themselves.
One such world was The Stepps, a near barren, desert planet, once in the possession of The Minnesota Tribe – a relatively small government in the grand scheme of things – but recently conquered by the Outworlds Alliance; and the Tribe wanted it back! However MT were stuck on the Northern Nadir jump point, unable to breach the naval defence cordon OA had set up around The Stepps and begin a surface campaign, until the unexpected arrival of a derelict ship gave them the leverage they needed to proceed.
The ship belonged to an old ally, House Jurai – the governing body of the Tortuga Dominions - another relatively small government, in a rather large galaxy. Jurai - until recently also at odds with MT – found itself stripped of a large portion of its Mechwarriors after a natural disaster at a far off Nadir point. Thrown headlong into the battle between OA and MT, the surviving Juraians decided to assist the Tribe with advanced naval technology and their few remaining pilots, in return for continued assistance with defence of their own realm.
Now the leaders of MT have the daunting task of assaulting a planet well defended and provisioned while they were delayed in landing, and the HJ leader in-system, Tokomi Arizona, wonders what is so all-fire important to MT that they’d throw so many men and machines at a planet that seems like so much dust and sand. And then there is Arizona’s family problems; a pregnant daughter, with a temper to match her father’s, racing off across the galaxy in pursuit of her wayward husband, who just happens to be one of the MT pilots dropping to contest the planet below, although Arizona has yet to discover his identity. But that would only be a matter of time... and then...
It would all end up as one hell of a furball, or Ari didn’t know his F.U.B.A.R.’s!
Excerpt: Netbattletech Hardcore - Pseudonym for Armageddon Book 2 - Ground War
“How is he?” Asmu asked, his tone pointed enough to get the doctor’s attention.
“He seems fine,” the doctor began, “however weakened from inactivity. The physio while he’s been under has certainly helped, however. I’d like to run some more tests, and keep him in for observations for at least forty-eight hours...” Max glared at the doctors.
“Doctor...” Max grabbed the doctor’s security pass and quickly read it, “Mendleson, I’m sure you are a fine doctor, however I have important information that must be passed onto MT command down on the planet, personally. So you can have your blood or whatever to do tests, and then I’m getting up, showering and using the facilities, dressing and leaving. [i]Do you understand?[/i]”
“That might be the way it works in [i]your[/i] military,” the doctor said, snidely, “but you’re on an MT ship, under [i]my[/i] care, and what I say here go...” The medico suddenly came up short as Asmu had drawn a small pistol and was pointing it at him.
“What [i]you[/i] don’t understand, dear doctor,” Asmu said, his voice cool and friendly, in stark contrast to his recent action, “is that if a Warlord of Jurai says he needs to get down to that planet, he’s going to that planet. No medical intervention, plague, famine, stock market collapse or enemy fleet will stop him. Now unless you want to start an intergovernmental incident between our two freshly allied nations, I suggest you let the Tai-shu up. You can send a doctor with him on his voyage to [i]The Stepps[/i] if you are very concerned, but our flagship arrives in one hour, and the Tai-shu will be on it.”
The doctor looked admonished, but knew not to argue with a man holding a gun. He finished taking blood, put a patch over the wound in the Warlords elbow-pit and stalked towards the door.
“Your government will receive a formal complaint from me and my government,” he stated at the door, and left before either Juraian could reply.
“I [i]am[/i] my government,” Maxtac growled, before pulling the tubes and sensors out of his body, and going to stand, intent on using the facilities for himself for the first time in two weeks. Asmu jumped as the Tai-shu disappeared off the side of the bed, and raced around to help him up.
“Seems I’m not quite as fine as I thought,” Max said sheepishly, accepting Asmu’s hand up. “Legs a little week – they’ll come good.”
Maxtac's Writing Buddies
|
|


add as buddy
send NaNoMail
visit website