Mike had come to Norbert's aid in 3058, when the young pilot was retiring from life with the
Smithson's Chinese Bandits, one of the more famous mercenary groups that the Inner Sphere
Houses regularly employed. Norbert excelled in close combat, especially the use of flame
weapons. His Assassin had been custom built to carry six of the flamers, which he'd use to great
effect over the second half of his military career. It was because of this special talent and his
shaggy bright red hair that Norbert had earned the nickname "Set your hair on fire".
Not a man to be forgotten, Norbert had seemingly returned from the dead after his Mech
exploded during Strider's Strikers first mission. Many members of the unit had suspected he
might be the Marik spy that had sent messages back to the Free Worlds League. Though
Norbert despised such accusations, he also lacked hard proof that he was entirely innocent and
entirely Norbert Owens. He shared his survival secret with few. Only rumors seemed to
suggest how he'd survived the ammunition explosion that ripped his Mech apart - something
about his cockpit's ferroglass shattering first and the explosion knocking him a dozen meters from
the burning carcass of his Mech. When one considered the odds, it really was a pretty hard tale
to swallow.
Norbert opened the door of his barracks room to find none other than Strider standing before
him. He wasn't too good with reading other people, but it didn't take a genius to see Mike was
jittery as a cracklebeetle in rainy season.
"Thought you might come. Even got ready for you, I did." Norbert's wide grin shown his bright
pearly white teeth, yet another trait he was known for. They flashed like a stark white beacon
from within his full bushy beard of shining red.
"It took me awhile to realize I had your vast piloting experience on my side," Mike smiled back,
licking his lower lip in trying to hide his anxiety about the evening's fight. "What can you tell me,
old friend?"
Norbert moved back out of the doorway and waved the Colonel in with a sweep of his small
arm. His quarters looked the same as any other to the untrained eye. However the experienced
veteran had actually rigged up several booby traps, hidden weapons, and even a sensor system
based on body heat signatures. Decades of constant military life had taught Norbert much about
caution. He was not going to let anyone get the drop on him after all these years.
"I don't know how much I can tell you," Norbert confessed, "but I can tell you as much as I've
learned, old friend." The smaller man smiled.
And Mike Strider couldn't help but feel some relief.
Borg rummaged through the data files on his computer's display as fast as he could. He wanted
anything valuable that might be brought to Devon Carns' attention before the duel started.
Something had to be found which concerned the commander's regular battlefield tactics,
something helpful to Devon. Borg had a great responsibility to Devon. More importantly, he
had a duty to his Clan.
Unfortunately he had not been satisfied with the investigation of Mike Strider's betrayal of the
Nova Cats. Things were getting pretty ugly. Thus far, what dirty secrets he had uncovered had
caused harm to not only the Inner Sphere commander but also the Nova Cat Clan as well.
Borg had not anticipated the possibility of a backlash from within the Clans, a swipe that could
strike Devon at any moment. He was certain it would come if Steel Viper Star Captain Sasha
Breen chose to inform her superiors of Devon's actions...or rather lack thereof. According to his
own principles, Devon had waited until Borg's evidence had proved conclusive. It was
reasonable behavior when considering how serious the charges directed towards Mike Strider
might be.
Sasha Breen had been itching to make the Trial of Refusal official long before, when only the
first bits of revealing information had been uncovered by Borg's team of info gatherers. She had
threatened Borg more than once that she could choose to add the findings to her regular Watch
reports. The Clan intelligence service would then share the data shortly thereafter amongst all
the Clans. It could then spark a chain of events that might very well swiftly bring punishment
down on Devon's head.
Normally Borg was not a man to mess with, let alone threaten. He was an expert data collector.
His own abilities had co-produced what was now the main data-gathering agency in the
Strider's Strikers mercenary unit, the SSIC. He was the type of guy who could dig up something
damning on anyone. Even scarier, he was an expert interrogator who tended to "talk things
through" without much regard for his suspects' health.
That specific practice had brought him all kinds of unwanted attention. Some came in the form
of stiff dressing-downs by his Inner Sphere and Clan commanders. Other attention was a bit
more direct, as well as significantly more memorable. One instance of such unwanted attention
had left him with a large scar on his right arm, where a would-be assassin had punctured his
biceps with a large vibroblade dagger. Yet another instance had killed his assigned bodyguard,
an Elemental named Tara.
As Borg came across the 27th battle report in a list of 41, he received an on-screen warning of
someone approaching his office. He immediately switched his screen off, triggering a backup
screen to disguise his true work. For only a second, he waited for his visitor to buzz in.
"I have something new." the voice cracked over the speaker. It was a deep, grainy voice that
could only have originated from a man.
"Bring it in." Borg stated. He keyed the locking mechanism to his small office off. The door
slid open on its rusting metal tracks.
Borg had been waiting for Luther for quite some time. The older man was one of his crack staff.
He'd been a Mechwarrior in his earliest days with Clan Nova Cat, but glory and pride soon gave
way to backroom deals and spying. Luther was one of the fallen. He was not however, one of
those who'd fallen gloriously. Borg suspected the man felt exactly the opposite, even believing
himself to have risen gloriously. Luther was not, afterall, your average Clanner.
Luther stepped softly into the office, looking straight to his boss. Despite his awakening at 2
AM to begin working on the current debacle, the man had somehow found the time for personal
hygiene. His head was cleanly shaven bald, and his short beard well trimmed. Borg made a
mental note to discuss the matter with Luther at a later time.
"This is what is left of his old practice vids on our simulators," Luther croaked in a monotone.
He set a small disk onto the wood-paneled desk behind which Borg was sitting. "I included my
Smithson's Chinese Bandits, one of the more famous mercenary groups that the Inner Sphere
Houses regularly employed. Norbert excelled in close combat, especially the use of flame
weapons. His Assassin had been custom built to carry six of the flamers, which he'd use to great
effect over the second half of his military career. It was because of this special talent and his
shaggy bright red hair that Norbert had earned the nickname "Set your hair on fire".
Not a man to be forgotten, Norbert had seemingly returned from the dead after his Mech
exploded during Strider's Strikers first mission. Many members of the unit had suspected he
might be the Marik spy that had sent messages back to the Free Worlds League. Though
Norbert despised such accusations, he also lacked hard proof that he was entirely innocent and
entirely Norbert Owens. He shared his survival secret with few. Only rumors seemed to
suggest how he'd survived the ammunition explosion that ripped his Mech apart - something
about his cockpit's ferroglass shattering first and the explosion knocking him a dozen meters from
the burning carcass of his Mech. When one considered the odds, it really was a pretty hard tale
to swallow.
Norbert opened the door of his barracks room to find none other than Strider standing before
him. He wasn't too good with reading other people, but it didn't take a genius to see Mike was
jittery as a cracklebeetle in rainy season.
"Thought you might come. Even got ready for you, I did." Norbert's wide grin shown his bright
pearly white teeth, yet another trait he was known for. They flashed like a stark white beacon
from within his full bushy beard of shining red.
"It took me awhile to realize I had your vast piloting experience on my side," Mike smiled back,
licking his lower lip in trying to hide his anxiety about the evening's fight. "What can you tell me,
old friend?"
Norbert moved back out of the doorway and waved the Colonel in with a sweep of his small
arm. His quarters looked the same as any other to the untrained eye. However the experienced
veteran had actually rigged up several booby traps, hidden weapons, and even a sensor system
based on body heat signatures. Decades of constant military life had taught Norbert much about
caution. He was not going to let anyone get the drop on him after all these years.
"I don't know how much I can tell you," Norbert confessed, "but I can tell you as much as I've
learned, old friend." The smaller man smiled.
And Mike Strider couldn't help but feel some relief.
Borg rummaged through the data files on his computer's display as fast as he could. He wanted
anything valuable that might be brought to Devon Carns' attention before the duel started.
Something had to be found which concerned the commander's regular battlefield tactics,
something helpful to Devon. Borg had a great responsibility to Devon. More importantly, he
had a duty to his Clan.
Unfortunately he had not been satisfied with the investigation of Mike Strider's betrayal of the
Nova Cats. Things were getting pretty ugly. Thus far, what dirty secrets he had uncovered had
caused harm to not only the Inner Sphere commander but also the Nova Cat Clan as well.
Borg had not anticipated the possibility of a backlash from within the Clans, a swipe that could
strike Devon at any moment. He was certain it would come if Steel Viper Star Captain Sasha
Breen chose to inform her superiors of Devon's actions...or rather lack thereof. According to his
own principles, Devon had waited until Borg's evidence had proved conclusive. It was
reasonable behavior when considering how serious the charges directed towards Mike Strider
might be.
Sasha Breen had been itching to make the Trial of Refusal official long before, when only the
first bits of revealing information had been uncovered by Borg's team of info gatherers. She had
threatened Borg more than once that she could choose to add the findings to her regular Watch
reports. The Clan intelligence service would then share the data shortly thereafter amongst all
the Clans. It could then spark a chain of events that might very well swiftly bring punishment
down on Devon's head.
Normally Borg was not a man to mess with, let alone threaten. He was an expert data collector.
His own abilities had co-produced what was now the main data-gathering agency in the
Strider's Strikers mercenary unit, the SSIC. He was the type of guy who could dig up something
damning on anyone. Even scarier, he was an expert interrogator who tended to "talk things
through" without much regard for his suspects' health.
That specific practice had brought him all kinds of unwanted attention. Some came in the form
of stiff dressing-downs by his Inner Sphere and Clan commanders. Other attention was a bit
more direct, as well as significantly more memorable. One instance of such unwanted attention
had left him with a large scar on his right arm, where a would-be assassin had punctured his
biceps with a large vibroblade dagger. Yet another instance had killed his assigned bodyguard,
an Elemental named Tara.
As Borg came across the 27th battle report in a list of 41, he received an on-screen warning of
someone approaching his office. He immediately switched his screen off, triggering a backup
screen to disguise his true work. For only a second, he waited for his visitor to buzz in.
"I have something new." the voice cracked over the speaker. It was a deep, grainy voice that
could only have originated from a man.
"Bring it in." Borg stated. He keyed the locking mechanism to his small office off. The door
slid open on its rusting metal tracks.
Borg had been waiting for Luther for quite some time. The older man was one of his crack staff.
He'd been a Mechwarrior in his earliest days with Clan Nova Cat, but glory and pride soon gave
way to backroom deals and spying. Luther was one of the fallen. He was not however, one of
those who'd fallen gloriously. Borg suspected the man felt exactly the opposite, even believing
himself to have risen gloriously. Luther was not, afterall, your average Clanner.
Luther stepped softly into the office, looking straight to his boss. Despite his awakening at 2
AM to begin working on the current debacle, the man had somehow found the time for personal
hygiene. His head was cleanly shaven bald, and his short beard well trimmed. Borg made a
mental note to discuss the matter with Luther at a later time.
"This is what is left of his old practice vids on our simulators," Luther croaked in a monotone.
He set a small disk onto the wood-paneled desk behind which Borg was sitting. "I included my
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