Chapter 3 – Of Micks and MAACs

 

Ivan McMac was a big bea’ram of a man - even bigger than L’Cor.  Ever since his days as a starball athlete in high school, L’Cor had become used to being somewhat bigger than everybody else.  Ivan McMac though, stood at least a foot taller and his chest resembled the chest armour of a MAAC rather than that of a human.  Ivan McMac’s arms were heavily muscled and his face looked as if it were chiselled out of rock.  His hair was snow white except near the crown of his head where he was bald.  He looked up as L’Cor walked into the store.  His sharp green eyes sized L’Cor up and his mouth broke into a broad and friendly smile.

 

“Welcome!”  Ivan stepped out from behind the counter and offered his hand to L’Cor.

 

L’Cor took the hand in a firm grip and shook it.  “What, no fanfare, no ‘we’ve got the best bargains’ speech?”

 

“Bah!” exclaimed Ivan.  “The simple that fact that you are here means that you had the sense to stay in the taxicab.  You value something more important than all the glitter and glitz that a corporate sponsor can give you.”

 

Curious now, L’Cor asked mildly, “Oh?  And what is that?”

 

“Freedom,” said Ivan.  “Freedom to dictate your own actions.  Freedom to do as you please in this world.  Freedom to decide when to fight and when to live to fight another day.”

 

L’Cor narrowed his eyes and said, “You don’t get very many new customers to you?”

 

Ivan heaved a large sigh.  “Sadly not my friend.  Too many youngsters are blinded by the glamour of being a Tournament Warrior these days.  My customers are mostly the old timers who’ve done the circuit a few times and have managed to break free from those soul stealing scum buckets!”

 

L’Cor gave him a brief grin and decided to get down to business.  “Tell me about the Micks.”

 

“But of course!” rumbled Ivan.  He clapped a friendly hand on L’Cor’s shoulder and led him through the back doors and into the warehouse.  L’Cor was amazed at what he saw.  The warehouse was set up like a huge MAAC hangar.  Instead of MAACs lining the wall stations though, there were a number of decidedly smaller machines.  The machines came in many shapes and sizes.  Some were humanoid with two legs and two arms.  Others had tank-like treads instead of legs.  Some even had a flat boxy platform where the legs should have been.  These, surmised L’Cor, must be hovercraft types.  Still others had either three or four legs.  Despite the variances though, L’Cor could see that the MCCVs had at lease three distinct classes.

 

Ivan stopped in the middle of the warehouse and face L’Cor.  “So, you’re ex-military eh?”

 

“I never said I was,” said L’Cor with a frown.

 

“You didn’t have to m’boy!”  Ivan laughed and the sound echoed in the warehouse like thunder.  “It’s written all over your face.  It’s in the way you stand, the way you walk, and the way you’ve already noticed that Micks come in three basic flavours – light, medium and heavy.”

 

“You read too much into things old man.”  For some reason, maybe it was the open friendliness of Ivan, but L’Cor did not feel the usual resentment or anger he felt whenever someone brought up his military past.

 

“I’m just good at reading people is all,” said Ivan.  “In fact, I used to be in the military too.”

 

“Oh?  Were you a MAAC pilot?”

 

“Me?  A pilot?  Ha!  They could never fit me into one of those neural suits!  Didn’t have one my size!”  Ivan laughed again and this time, L’Cor laughed with him.  He had to admit that the image of Ivan trying to fit into one of those skin-tight neural suits was pretty funny indeed.

 

Ivan wiped a tear from his eyes and said, “I was a MAAC crew chief and a dagnag good one too.”  Suddenly, Ivan face grew sombre as if remembering a sad thought.  “When supplies got scarce at one point during the war, I had to send too many young kids out with unmaintained MAACs.  Too many of those never came back.  That’s how I got into this business.  Now, as long as kids have enough money, they get the best that their money can buy.”

 

L’Cor remembered very well that time when supplies were scarce.  He had been stationed in the northern hemisphere on the continent of Arca.  The frontlines were scattered because the Saxx had the advantage of being able to land wherever they wanted.  Most of the planetary resources were devoted to space defence to try to ward off future invasions.  L’Cor had to admit that in the long run, it had been the right move because once the space stations were online, the number of successful Saxx incursions declined dramatically.  Still, it had been a rough year.  The only up side was that in the north, normal rules regarding fraternization had been relaxed in an effort to keep the spirits of the troops up and their body temperatures warm.  L’Cor smiled at the thought and said, “I remember how glad I was when orders came in to do anything possible to stay warm.  I got to know the other side of my troops quite well!  Many of the maintenance and admin staff were women and very friendly.”

 

Ivan let out a huge laugh.  “I can imagine.  You were stationed in Arca then?  I remember when some of the stories started to filter back south, we had a sudden interest amongst our younger pilots to – oh how did they put it – join forces with our beleaguered brothers in the north!”

 

L’Cor’s mood darkened.  R’Tus had just finished MAAC basic at the time and was and was assigned to another unit on the front lines.  It had been hard to pull the strings that would get R’Tus attached to L’Cor’s own unit where he could watch over his younger brother, but in the end the transfer had happened.  In hindsight, L’Cor now wished that he hadn’t tried so hard.  If R’Tus were never part of L’Cor’s unit, then he would never have been in the Badlands that day, holding rearguard against a tidal wave of Saxx, only to be blown up by his own people’s thernuke.

 

Ivan seemed to catch onto L’Cor’s mood change instantly.  “Here, let me explain the basics of a Mobile Civilian and Construction Vehicle.”  Ivan pulled out a hand held terminal and turned it on.  It hummed as it project a 3D hologram.  Ivan spoke as he cycled through the images.  “You probably know the history.  The idea of using a civilian machine took form after the city of Atemus successfully repelled a Saxx attack with the help of some MCCVs that were hastily armed with some light MAAC weapons.  The armed MCCVs supplemented the MAAC forces and although the MCCVs were almost completely wiped out, the Saxx were eventually beaten off.  Later on in the war, armed MCCVs were often used by militia for guard duties, freeing up frontline MAACs for assaults.

 

“After the war, Gill’em Bates - a former militia man - came up with the concept of the Tournament.  The idea took off like a L-Wave rocket and now he’s the richest man in the world.  The main difference between a Mick and a MAAC – other than the size that is – is the lack of a neural suit.  So, if you joined the Tournament hoping to see some hot women in skin tights, you can forget it.”

 

The joke lightened L’Cor’s mood somewhat and he began to listen in earnest.  Ivan chuckled at his own humour and continued on.  “The pilot of a Mick sits in this cockpit, just behind the torso.”

 

Ivan pointed his finger at a hologram representation of a Mick.  There was a large humpbacked lump on the back.  L’Cor had assumed that it was just some miscellaneous equipment but now he realized how wrong he had been.

 

“The obvious advantage of something like this is that that other than your frontal armour, you have your endoskeleton as well as your internal systems between you and incoming fire.  You’re a little more vulnerable in the back though, but then if you let someone get behind you long enough to get a good shot in, then you don’t deserve to be in the Tournament.  Anyway, in a fight, your Mick will likely become disabled long before any harmful fire comes your way.”

 

L’Cor nodded his head thoughtfully.  “What about an ejection system?”

 

“The whole cockpit assembly on all Micks are designed to break free and mini L-Wave engines will blast you free from the Mick.  That way, you’re still protected both from secondary explosions and from radiation.”

 

“Radiation?”

 

Ivan face took on a serious cast.  “Yeah.  It’s not that bad in Old Neomar since it was the first city that we had to nuke, but in other arenas, I’ve heard the radiation is still pretty bad.”

 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” said L’Cor.

 

“The Micks are too small in size to have a sophisticated neural harness interface like the MAACs.  Instead, the controls are fairly simple.  You have controls that can be simplified with pre-programed responses and weapons that are not that much bigger than regular human sized weapons.  Don’t underestimate them though.  A Mick sized auto-cannon can still punch through brick houses and a skilled Mick pilot can zip through city streets without slowing down.”

 

When L’Cor didn’t look convinced, Ivan turned off the terminal and waved his hand.  “Come on, I’ve got something to show you.”

 

Curious, L’Cor followed until Ivan came to a stop beside a maintenance bin.  Ivan reached in and pulled out a heavy glossy sheet of supple plastic looking material.  “I’ll give you one free maintenance check if you can guess what this is.”

 

L’Cor took the material in his hands and examined it.  The surface of the material was smooth and shiny.  He found that it was also very stretchy and when he put his arm in it, it conformed itself to the contour of his arm.  As for colour, he found that he couldn’t really judge the colour of the material, which was rather odd.  It seemed to catch the light a little differently depending on how he turned the material.  “I suppose that if I were to cover something with this, it would make whatever was underneath very hard to see, right?”

 

Ivan chuckled.  “Dagnag-it.  I should’ve known that an ex-MAAC pilot would figure it out.  I guess I owe you a free maintenance check.  All you have to do is buy a Mick from me!”

 

L’Cor laughed out loud.  He was beginning to like Ivan McMac!  “So, what is it exactly?”

 

Ivan took the material from L’Cor and explained, “This is a sheet of Optical Camouflage.  They were working on this during the war but could never get them to work properly on a MAAC.  I think it had something to do with the sheer size of a MAAC.  Basically, you throw this baby on top of your Mick, and boom, the internal fibre batteries kick in and the OC blends in with its surroundings.  It’s not perfect, but if you use it right, it’ll give you an advantage.  Just don’t forget that your opponents have it too.  The batteries don’t last too long though so you have to watch that.  With a little luck and by standing perfectly still, you can effectively mask your presence and get the jump on your opponents.  Move around too much and the OC won’t be able to keep up with the change in your surroundings and then you’ll stick out like a sore thumb.  Oh, and any impacts will disrupt the illusion and potentially break the fibre wire underneath.”

 

L’Cor gave the material one last look and said, “Stay still and don’t get hit.  Got it.  How many of these would I have?”

 

Ivan shrugged his titanic shoulders.  “It depends on what OC module you load on your Mick.  Anywhere between five and twenty in a module.  You could theoretically install an OC onto the outside of your Mick and have your Mick’s engine power it.  It would give you unlimited camouflage – until you got hit that is.  Some of the contestants are known to do that.”

 

“If I got hit, I would lose my advantage entirely.”  L’Cor shook his head and said; “I think I’ll stick with using it when I have to.”

 

Ivan nodded approvingly.  “Good man.  Now, on to specifics.  As I said before, there are three main flavours of Micks: light, medium and heavy.  Much like MAACs in fact.  The other nice thing about Micks is that every component is modular which is why you won’t find actual model names attached to any one Mick.  Brand new Micks are stamped with a tag when they roll off an assembly line, but that tag is quickly obsolete as pilots start customizing their Mick.”

 

That was definitely a new feature for L’Cor.  With a MAAC, what you see was what you got.  The only thing you could customize was your weapon load outs.  “Are there any limits to the customization?”

 

“In theory?  No.  In practice…wooo boy, I could write an entire book!  The basic rule is don’t make your Mick heavier than what your engine can handle.  For example, if you put heavy arms on a light frame with a light engine, not only will your Mick be slow, but also the arms might rip right out of their sockets at the wrong time.  Best thing is to stick with modules that were designed for your class.”

 

“Light arms on a light frame.  Got it”

 

“Now, we can either start customizing your Mick from the ground up or you can browse through my collection of complete Micks.”

 

“What’s the difference?”

 

“By customizing, you will be using parts that I’ve traded back from other contestants or parts that I’ve been able to salvage from the arena.  As for the complete Micks, well, it’s usually a waste of time for me to build a Mick without a custom order so all the complete Micks I’ve got are from pilots who’ve died in the arena.  I usually buy back their Micks and use the proceeds to fund their funeral.  I then fix them up and them hope someone will buy one or two as a spare Mick.”

 

L’Cor raised his eyebrows and asked, “Any luck with that?”

 

Ivan sighed deeply.  “Nah and not for what you think either.  There’s no stigma attached to a Mick whose pilot has died.  Everyone who enters the Tournament knows that there’s a distinct possibility of that happening.  I guess in today’s suddenly peaceful world, many people need this sort of outlet.  Besides, with the population growing the way it has, and with the number of liveable places are so limited, in a bizarre sort of way, we need this to give people something to do and look forward to.”

 

Ivan sighed and led L’Cor to another terminal.  This one was solidly installed into the wall and it had a large holo projector.  Ivan turned it on and continued to speak.  “In truth, I can’t even pretend to understand what drives someone to enter the Tournament.  Its not like we’re at war or anything.  All I can do is make sure that the kids who come to my shop are properly prepared for what’s out there.”  Ivan powered up a program and when it finished loading, he typed on a keyboard as images in the holo projector changed around.  “Ok, let’s get started shall we?  First of all, choose a class.  Light Micks are usually pretty fast and manoeuvrable, but lack heavy armour and lack the ability to use the heavier Mick weapons.  Heavy Micks are the exact opposite while medium Micks are a combination of both.  I usually advise new pilots to go for a medium.”

 

L’Cor gave the matter some serious thought.  Like many MAAC pilots, he had started off with the light Wyv’en and as he moved up the ranks, traded in his Wyv’en for a Grif’cen and finally a Drac’en.  R’Tus was one of those rare pilots who preferred a Wyv’en for its mobility and speed.  “If I go with a heavy, a good pilot in a light will run circles around me.  If I go light, and get cornered, I’ll get the frak pummelled out of me.  If I go with a medium, I won’t be able to keep up with the lights and I can’t go toe to toe with the heavies.”  L’Cor thought some more while judging the pros and cons of each.”

 

“There is no tried and true formula,” admitted Ivan.  “It all depends on your style of fighting.  For example, for obvious reasons, pilots of light Micks tend to use hit and run tactics.  Pilots of heavies like to face their opponents’ head on and pilots of mediums are the jacks-of-all-trades.  The reigning champion of the Tournament pilots a medium Mick.”

 

“Really?  Let’s start with a medium and see where that takes us.”

 

Ivan hit a button on his keyboard and a series of images appeared on the holo projectors.  From their shapes, they were obviously Mick torsos.  “I won’t bore you with model names or numbers.  Do you prefer a rounded armour or angled armour?”

 

“Well, a rounded armour would be good against missiles while an angled armour has a better chance of deflecting bullets.  Neither is very effective against lasers.  Hmmm.”  L’Cor’s old Drac’en had angled armour and an anti-missile system as well.  “Can you equip a Mick with an AMS?”

 

Ivan nodded affirmatively.  “Sure, but it’ll take up one of your four weapon hard points.”

 

L’Cor made up his mind.  “Ok, let’s go with the angled contour.  I’ll just have to be fast on my feet against missiles.”

 

Ivan punched a few buttons and an image of a torso with a triangular front became enlarged.  “I like this particular one myself.  It’s a little more aerodynamic than the other models.  Now, how about the legs?  You have five choices.  You can have two legs, three legs, four legs, treads or a hovercraft.”  Five 3D images of the various leg choices showed on the holo projector.

 

L’Cor looked at each one carefully.  “All the leg types have built in rollers?”  When Ivan nodded, L’Cor continued.  “The treads and the hover types probably allow for heavier loads but there’s obvious disadvantages.”

 

Ivan smiled broadly.  “You have a good eye.  I’m glad I don’t have to do the explaining for once!”

 

L’Cor shrugged nonchalantly as if it didn’t matter to him.  “The treads will probably allow for the heaviest loads, but it’s obviously very slow.  If I were in a heavy Mick, I’d consider it.  The hover type is tempting but my experience with hovercraft is that they throw up a lot of dust.  That won’t work well with the OC, right?”

 

“That’s right.  Not only that, if you ground your Mick in order to use the OC properly, it could take you a good few seconds to fire up your blowers.  Depending on how you time it, those few seconds could be critical.”

 

“I don’t particularly want to go with the three or four legs.  I can’t imagine what kind of ride that would be.  Let’s go with the two legs.  You got any that can take a heavier load without suffering too much in speed?”

 

Ivan worked on his keyboard.  His face had a thoughtful expression.  “Let’s see…Kotobiuya had a Mick model recently…Ah, here it is.”  A pair of legs appeared on the holo projector.  They were chunkier than any of the others and the rollers on them were also larger.  “These babies have a stronger endoskeleton and better mechanical muscles.  Not only that, those rollers are bigger too.  If you don’t weigh down too much on your weapons, you should have good zero to running speed acceleration.  Top speed is nothing to sneeze at though.”

 

“Top speed is not that important in an urban setting anyway,” said L’Cor.

 

“True, but you’d be amazed at what some of these kids think is important these days.”

 

“I’m not a kid”

 

“Also true!  Ok let’s move to your weapon systems.  You have four hard points for weapons and one for your jump jets.  Theoretically, you could take out the jump jets and put in another weapon but I wouldn’t advise it.  The jump jets are pretty standard.  You could keep the ones that come with the torso or you can attach either bigger or smaller ones.”

 

“Are the jump jets directional?”

 

“Yup.  If you wanted to, you can hunker down on your rollers and use your jets to go faster.”

 

“Let’s keep the jets then.  How much is this adding to so far?  I want to know how much money I have left for weapons.”

 

Ivan typed in some more numbers and then said, “You’re looking at around one hundred and thirty thousand credits so far.”

 

“Frak!” exclaimed L’Cor.  “You sure these are all used parts?”

 

Ivan shrugged apologetically.  “Sorry, I have to factor in my time to fix these parts up after I salvage them from the arena and the undamaged parts that get traded in have a high resell value.  If you want, I can try to arrange for some private sales.”

 

L’Cor did some quick calculations in his head.  He had just over two hundred thousand credits to his name.  That had to cover his living expenses for a while plus the purchase and maintenance of his Mick.  After his first game in the arena, he should hopefully have earned more money.  “Never mind that.  After my first game, I should either have enough for better weapons or I’ll be dead.”

 

“Don’t forget the entry fee to some of the games.  The entry fee ensures that only contestants of a certain level of skill are allowed to join.  The lower end games are free but the prize money attached to each contestant is less.”

 

“Tell me how that works.  I’ve read about it but I still don’t quite get it.”

 

“Well basically, the Tournament puts up a certain dollar amount as prize money for you when you enter a game.  This amount is based on your stats and your skill.  For example, since you’re new and an unknown, your prize is worth two thousand credits.  Whoever takes you down will earn that prize money.  As you play more and earn more wins, your prize value goes up.  For the higher end games with the entrance fee, the fee you pay is added to your prize worth, which makes potential winnings in those games rather high.  However, generally, you’d be facing top notch pilots in those games.”

 

“Ok, that makes more sense now.  How long does each game last?”

 

“Generally, each game last until there’s only one pilot left functioning.  The tournament managers have been talking about setting different kinds of game scenarios but most of those are team based.”

 

“I guess I’ll worry about that later then.  Now, I’m used to fighting with a balanced weapon load out.  One multi barrel auto-cannon, one laser, a missile system and a howitzer type of cannon for blast damage potential.”

 

Ivan snorted incredulously.  “Good luck trying to find that kind of load out.  Not only is the cost for weapons such as those astronomical, the combined weight of the weapons you described would make you as mobile as a rock.”

 

L’Cor sighed.  “Fine, tell me what I can get for fifty thousand credits.”

 

Ivan started typing on his keyboard and several weapons choice appeared.  “For fifty thousand credits, I would advise the following:  one light rapid fire cannon, one medium shot cannon, one spring-fire grenade launcher and one single tube missile system.  The RFC is basically a Mick sized auto-cannon and the shot cannon is a Mick sized shotgun.  The grenades won’t do much damage unless you score a direct or near direct hit, but even a far miss will disrupt most OC.  The single tube missile system fires one missile at a time.  This will basically be your most destructive system.  The single tube missiles systems have larger warheads and the lock-on times are faster.  In multi tube systems, each missile needs to lock on individually which means that while you can shoot up to six missiles at once, only the first few will have locked on.”

 

“Why is that?  I’d hate to have to wait that long to lock on only to lose half my missiles to pointless targets.”

 

“Two reasons.  First, it’s cheaper and second, you can target multiple enemies at once that way.”

 

“Yeah, but it’ll still take me forever to lock on.  If I put two STMs on, will they both target at the same time?”

 

“Sure, you can link their fire control systems like that.  But you’ll be giving up the grenade launcher.”

 

“Not a problem.  Switch out the medium SC for a light one.  That’ll give me more ammunition for probing possible hiding places.  Then put a medium RFC in place of the light one.  That, I think, will be my primary weapon.”

 

Ivan whistled.  “Ok, you’re the customer.”  He made the changes then hit one final button.  On the holo projector, L’Cor’s Mick was taking shape.  The triangular torso sat upon the blocky legs.  On the right side, was a rapid-fire cannon and on the left was the shot cannon.  On the back, two single tube missile systems sat of cockpit assembly, just above the jump jets.  A blocky head unit sat on top of the torso.  “When you get more money, you can update the targeting sensors and computer in the head unit.  Right now, the basic models will do you just fine in the lower end games.  Also, I’ve taken the liberty of installing a twenty-pack OC module in there.  Looks like we’re set.  Ready to check out?”

 

L’Cor fished out his pocket computer and connected it to Ivan’s terminal.  On his screen, he could see the appropriate number of credits being taken out of his account.  “How soon can I expect it?”

 

“It’ll take about a week.  Come back in a couple of days to check the status.”

 

L’Cor nodded and turned away.  That was when he saw her.  She was young, somewhere in her mid to late teens.  She wore a ripped blue denim jacket overtop a thin white tank top that was threadbare in some strategic places.  She also wore a tiny leather miniskirt that looked as if it barely reached past her hips, long white stockings that went past her knees and spiked black shoes.  Multi coloured dyed hair; heavy makeup and several lengths of steel chain around her neck completed her attire.  She blew out large pink bubble from the gum she was chewing and approached L’Cor and Ivan.

 

She stopped a few feet away and looked disdainfully at L’Cor.  “Why doncha take a holo?  It’ll last longer.”

 

L’Cor hadn’t realized that he’d been staring.  “If I had a holo recorder, I would.  Are you dressed like that on a dare?”

 

The girl ignored L’Cor and addressed Ivan.  “Is my Baby ready?”

 

Ivan said, “Yup, hang on.”  He pulled a handset from his pocket and spoke into it, “Jan!  Is Yoko’s Baby ready?  Yeah, ok, come and get her.”  He put the handset away and said, “Baby’s ready.  Go and meet Jan by the repair shop’s door ok?”

 

Yoko blew another bubble and then snapped it shut.  She inclined her head in L’Cor’s direction and asked, “Newbie?”

 

“Registering him today.  He just bought a Mick.”

 

Yoko made a show at staring at the holo of L’Cor’s completed Mick.  “You’re going to be piloting that?”  She snorted contemptuously.  “You’re braver than you look.”

 

“No braver than you for putting on that hooker outfit!”  L’Cor could feel his anger rise.  Who the frak was this little girl which the giant attitude? If she had shown up in MAAC Basic dressed like that, the NCO’s would’ve been all over her like grif’cens on a rab’hit.

 

Ivan sucked in a deep breath in shock.  He held up a placating hand to the girl and said, “He didn’t mean that Yoko.  He’s new here.”

 

Yoko gave L’Cor one last look and said, “Phfft!  See you in the arena Newbie.  I’ll be looking for you!”  She turned and walked off.  When she got to the far door, it opened and a younger version of Ivan greeted her and together they walked through the door.

 

“Who the frak was that?” demand L’Cor.

 

Ivan ran a hand through his thin white hair.  “That, my friend with the death wish, is Yoko Ana.  She’s the current reigning champion of the Tournament.”

 

“Her?  That little thing?”

 

“Look, you have to remember that once you get inside a Mick, physical differences don’t mean anything.  At nineteen orbits old, Yoko is the youngest champion ever of the Tournament.  She’s chalked up over one hundreds wins in the arena.  A fair number were kills to boot.”

 

L’Cor silenced his anger.  Ivan had a point.  Even the smallest recruit in the war became a giant as soon as he stepped into the harness of a MAAC.  That was just something else that Micks and MAACs had in common.  “What was this Baby that she was talking about?”

 

“Ah, good question!”  Ivan instantly cheered up.  “Remember when I said that Micks didn’t have model names?  Well, Mick pilots usually name their Micks.  Yoko’s Mick is called Baby.  A rather silly name for an extremely competent and serious warrior.”  Ivan pulled up another menu on the holo projector and started typing on his keyboard.  “Ok, I can register you into the Tournament from here.  Full name please?”

 

“Sure.  It’s L’Cor Penrag’n”

 

Ivan’s head snapped back to look at L’Cor with questions in his eyes.  He stared at L’Cor and said hesitantly, “Penrag’n?  Any relation to…never mind.  There were probably many Penrag’ns in the military.”  Ivan went back to typing and finally said, “Ok, what name do you want to give your Mick?”

 

L’Cor was curious as to what Ivan was going to ask, but since the other man did not ask, L’Cor didn’t push the issue.  He thought about how he felt about himself these days.  Why had he decided to throw everything away and come here?  Was it as his sister Q’wen had said: so that he could feel alive again?  It was true that ever since war had ended, L’Cor had felt as if he were nothing but a shadow of his former self - a ghost that was doing nothing but exist.  Also, when R’Tus had died, L’Cor had had a nervous breakdown and it had taken him weeks to get over that.  It had almost been as if his internal systems had crashed and needed to be rebooted.  Suddenly, he smiled grimly.  He knew what to name his Mick.  “Call it Phantom.  Phantom Crash.”