The story of the Mavericks (the Musical) Musical/Opera. Read it and you will see the dramatic sweep - from cities to Machine Desert.

Prologue

And all the while they had thought the stories were just that: stories to scare the children with. Sure, there was no more 'Butler' series in the clan, and the reports of their demise was vague, stating the last butlers were 'lost in the horseshoe mountains'. But that was ancient history now, something so long past evidence has been lost. All that's left is the 'lost'-line in history books and, of course, the tales.
Anything, those days, could fall prey to the wolfs that wandered around in those mountains. Those were the stories that went around, and the historians claimed that's exactly what happened to the butlers, though folklore has another story.

Part I: Fall and rise of a Colonel

Guard your step when venturing out. The stories are all very clear on that. The beast is out there, or so the villagers say. Private Silvius knew this, more than anyone. He was part of the Inquisitional taskforce sent out to deal with Biscuit. Alva ruled the Inquisition, no one had ever heard of the ORZ. Silvius was a private of a special sort, and he knew it. Silvius was to undergo the special training course Alva had recently set up. There were already rumours of the first test graduates of this school being stationed in the west, scouting around and wreaking havoc on supply lines. One of them even seemed to have found the rough location of the Black Wolf clan hall! Still, until this war with Biscuit was over, he wasn't going anywhere. Silvius, for all he was worth, had been assigned to rear guard duty. Here he was, stationed at Mt. Genesis, while all the action was at Fang's Grave. He had been deemed too valuable to send to the front, and that single fact annoyed him to no end.

He sat alone in the command room of the breeder he had been stationed in. All around him the production mechanism did it's work. One of those double-production mechanisms, developed shortly after production switched to the higher grade purple biomass. His commanding officer, one Colonel Marcus, had given him the control over this breeder while he himself went out to inspect the front. With subtle routine Silvius moved the breeder to a new patch of biomass. All was quiet.

Marcus returned from the front with good news. The opposition was weakening, it would be only a matter of days before their defense effort would shatter, and everything would be over. Silvius was excited - the thought of moving away from this sodden boredom appealed to him, to say the least.
A bright flash was seen, from the direction of another breeder close to Marcus' own. When Silvius could see again, he saw only a heap of rubble. Panic.

Meanwhile,at the Inquisition's capital, a youth crept through the alleys. He took his time, moving in the shadows, making sure not to be seen by any of Alva's guards. After a short walk he came to his destination. From his coat, he grabbed the red spraycan and wrote the letters 'B.U.T.L.E.R.'onto the wall. He looked up at a sound, spraycan still in his hand, and was blinded by a flashlight. He threw his can on the floor and began to run, followed by the sound of dogs being released.

"We're under attack! Call for backup. How long until the production cycle is complete?"
"It'll be a long time sir, we just finished a production loop"
"Recall the fighter we constructed, we might catch it before it gates."
"It just gated, sir"
"Damn, they must've been onto us. Any ID of the agressor yet?"
"Negative, not even a trace."

The sound of an incoming missile...

"JEZUS CHRIST! BRACE!"

The breeder was badly hit in the first set of volleys. The command room rocked back and forward, while pieces were ripped off the breeder's hull. Biochambers burst and the toxic purple preprocessed goo was leaking out. To make matters worse, one of the engines overloaded and took out the entire port side of the construct. Marcus was smashed against the bulkhead, his favourite sidearm being slung all the way across the room. Another rocking motion then threw him out of the breeder, into the chaos beyond. Silvius, upon seeing his favourite commander fall, picked up the gun and ran for an escape pod. He managed to push the red 'eject' button only seconds before the second volley hit, obliterating the breeder.

The boy did not stand a chance against the trained hounds. With his fingers red from the paint, he trembled when the two guards closed in on him. He knew them by their signs, these were elite guards, no bribing himself out this time.

Part II: The Outlands

One day the orders simply flew in and landed on Silvius desk. A chance, at last, to see some action. Too long had the colonel been sitting at home while the war with the stompers raged on. Silvius had been made leader of Transcendent party gamma- no more explanation was needed. The entire faction knew no other news: a transcendent party was to be sent out and make a strike at the stompers. And some strike there would be, the breeders alone would equal a greater task force, let alone the fighters that would be built from them. Their mission was to take out one of the stomper headquarters. Which one was not known: Dark Angels, Bac Ho? Zildjian perhaps? There were rumours that even Ratsgut was a target. They all lived on Retribution ridge, the most untakable heart of stomperland. Most speculation revolved around who was to lead the mission. This particular mission was to be the most important mission in the faction's history - what the faction had fought for in the landsraad. Not the Prolongers, with their jumping vessels that no longer functioned since the breakdown of gate physics. The Transcendents were going to be the most important battle faction, and this certainly was a blow in the face of the Prolongers. The mission was critical. Rumours went around that Chairman Kwaaiweer himself was to lead it. Silvius was pleased.

That day the Prolongers voted for a motion that would allow the Transcendents to free prisoners from the Inquisition's dungeons, that would then serve aboard Transcendent vessels. The Prolongers did not vote to help the Transcendents, the 'friction' between the two clans is well-documented, but rather to thwart the Eternally Mercuful, who would never allow a prisoner to see the light of day again, if it were up to them.

Silvius inspected the breeder he was to travel to the front in. It had no shield and was particularly light for a titan of the Inquisition. Not many of today's commanders would want to be sent out in a titan like this one, but then again, not many commanders knew the strength of these light machines: their speed. Speed was critical in the task ahead. The party would land in the Machine Desert, about 50 clicks southwest of the westernmost point of Retribution Ridge. The area had been scouted and found clear. They'd jump in, 30 breeders in all, remain unseen while the breeders would repair and build a strike force. Scout would then pinpoint the exact location of the stomper command centres, the target of the operation.

Part III: The Survivor

I must admit I've done reasonably well. I lived my life as a street rebel, spraying the walls with what I believed in. BUTLER. That was my name. I wrote it on the walls of Casero Capital, I wrote it bloody everywhere. My red spraygun, and so many times I hid it when the guards came by. Only twice they managed to catch me, and the first time I managed to bribe myself to freedom. Survival is tough in the streets of Casero Capital, but being an aerosol god helps. I was the best. I even sprayed the walls of El Palacio itself once, Fang musn't have been pleased. Then they got me, pure misfortune really, two Mercyful -sure- guards with their bloodhounds. I thought I was a goner, and under normal circumstances I would have been. Locked in the dungeons, amidst the rotting tresspassers, thieves and murderers I was left to do just that - rot. To me it was a miracle that the commander came to take me away. The front with Bac Ho, it sounded like a luxury palace, and it was really, compared to the hole I was in. And I was among the lucky ones, the ones able to go there. The choice musn't have been that hard for the commander, there were not that many able-bodied men in that dungeon, most of them had some disease that would eventually catch up with them and some even had weird mutilations those manical technologists had inflicted on them. I had only been in there for two weeks, undamaged and grateful, and I got out again.

When we got to the vessel I understood why they needed crew that bad: regular soldier wouldn't exactly be flocking to board the ramshackle thing that was to be our transport. Top of the line, or so they said, but did it have to be so small? Colonel Silvius, to whom I was to be personal assistant (after a respectable number of screenings, mind you), snickered at my comments and laughed at me when I asked where the shield generators were. There were none.It was fast. Somehow the colonel managed to steer clear of any hard or sharp object in our path. He entered the corrections before my mind could even register the object - I saw him correct first, then I usually saw the hazard. The guy was that fast. As was our crate. I hadn't believed the words 'mach two', but know I knew. I saw the colonel enter jump coordinates, I saw him activating the jump system, then I identified we were going through.

Top of the line allright. The thing was completely broken when we arrived at the Machine Deserts, not a spawning device worked. All over the belly of the vessel, that had come to a full stop now, only the better for my stomach, I saw a faint glimmer. Nanobots. Silvius told me of them, they would repair the damaged spawning system faster than the chambers could be filled. This, I was told, was a war breeder in it's purest form. All around me the other breeders arrived. We were stationed at an oasis, and once the first biomass storages were repaired, the breeders spread out to harvest the nearby vegetation.

The first wartitans were being produced, and Silvius moved to one of the shielded models himself, trusting the second-in-command with the breeder. Then the message came in: Bac Ho Command and Dark Angels Command spotted southeast, 20 clicks. Much closer than expected. The result was dramatic, with the entire field speed-building their wartitans. Most of them faster and smaller than usual, barely completed, but much faster that way. The fighters moved to the Black Highlands, from where they would have a clear shot on the Command centers stationed just south. Silvius himself lead the charge, as I knew he would. A long siege started, and the breeders we moved more to the southwest, because of two Zildjian titans coming in from the east. Our unshielded vessels wouldn't last long against the fighters that came in, but we'd outrun them, and resettle just northwest of the Black Highlands. We arrived on the third day of the Bac Ho siege and built our second fighter.

Part IV: The Story of the Mavericks

Bac Ho command was destroyed and Silvius was out exploring the ruins when the situation went out of control. Ever since the arrival there had been a sign in the desert. It was a border marker, nothing unusual, except that it bore the old colours of the Inquisition, the purple and pink of the old days, the colours the clan bore when fighting Biscuit. Survivor first saw the sign when the breeder he was in moved southwest towards their new position. Nobody thought anything of it at the time, border markers, even lone ones, were very common.

Survivor was alarmed and mentioned his concern to the breeder commander. Humbug, he said, it's just a totem. And you must be mistaken about the colours. But Survivor was sure.

The west wing of the breeder group, of which all members had the same unshielded and fast design, approached a foothill when the radar grid lit up like christmas tree. A bright flash later two breeders of the west wing were turned into water and carbondioxide vapour. The attacker bore the same colours as the totem. Survivor had known before the first missile hit.

Mavericks.

The stories were true and only one word escaped his mouth: 'Butler'. An ambush. 'BUTLER. The breeder got hit. 'Move to the highlands' survivor shouted, but he only saw the commander lying on the control panel. Unconscious? Dead? What did it matter, he would survive, if only he could control the breeder. He could only move at mach one, so the computer could do the navigating, but it could just be enough to reach the hills.

Part V: The Story of the Mavericks (The Musical)

(Enter Silvius in a mad commanding Frenzy)
Silvius: Fire the guns! This is for Marcus, and what you did to them. To ambush us! Such audacity, thinking they can defeat me. Huh, I vanquished Bac Ho, I defeat villains like you for breakfast!

The command room was in dissarray when the second volley was fired from the guns. Mavericks, bearing the old Inquisition's colours. The exact same colours Marcus' vessel had been painted in. Silvius reached for his pistol and loaded a single bullet in it.

Silvius: And alive, they'll get me never. I now know why Marcus carried this pistol around. I load a bullet. Come and get me, you scum. I, for one, am ready.

His mind had been spinning. The shock had paralyzed his mind, and he gave command to entrench the task force in the mountains. The mountains were surrounded by enemy forces.

Then the message came in.

(Enter Survivor holding a scrap of paper)
Survivor: It's true, Gimli is moving in, his forces only a seven day march away from us.

It was a fact that the battle group would be obliterated in less than three day's time. Of the twenty-four fighters that had been caught in the highlands, fifteen remained, and only five were undamaged, one of which, luckily, was Silvius'.

One of the light fighters exploded when Silvius made the decision: they would run for it. Too long had they neglected the strong point of their fighters: their speed and maneuvrability. He would command the damaged fighters to cover the escape, and move the undamaged five out. Preparations were made, and the crew was thrilled. Go home. Be rescued. Get away from the marauding Mavericks. The damaged fighters, the losses, those that would be left behind - mere sacrifices for their freedom. There was one man who had his doubts.

(Enter Survivor)
Survivor: Call me strange, but I wanted this war to go on forever. The crew, they speak only of home. Of the fairness of the streets of Casero Capital. What do they know of the streets of Casero Capital? What do they know of the Aerosol God? I'm Butler! What will be of me when I am home? More disbelief? There is no reason to think they will listen to me this time. It happened before, it will happen again. Home. There is no such place for me. Still, I will survive after all. Only a smal leap between me and safety, and after that there is nothing that insane warrior can do to endager my life. I'll survive.

(Enter Silvius)
Silvius: We leave, we move now. The first four fighters are already on the move, we are the last to go. We have aboard the injured, those that could be saved. Left behind are the damaged fighters, with skeletoncrews. Those men in there, they're heroes.

With the speed of the fighters it would not take long to run the blockade of Maverick bandits.

The first titan of the five was noticed immediately when it moved and shot to pieces on the spot. Number one's death was enough to allow number two and four - Silvius' titan - to pass. Number three, however, had taken an engine hit just before the move, and a lone missile hit the forward weapon array. A chainreaction obliterated the entire weapon array and a shield generator, leaving the titan shieldless and crippled. A loud explosion followed.

Silvius: Alas, Gaius, my friend and fellow soldier. Thy pride has gotten the better of thee, the red button press'd and thou art no more. Such a shame.

Number five, with number four one of the two full-sized titans in the group, turned around a charged straight for the Mavericks group. In a killing frenzy it managed to take out a Maverick warrior before it was taken down himself.

Now in the open, the two remaining titans managed to avoid most of the incoming fire. Silvius' titan remained unhit, but an unfortunate hit to the shields of number two momentarily shut down the engines. A sitting duck, but a moment later no more. Only a heap of smoking rubble remained of number two.

Silvius: We are now alone. We must be brave, we are not far from the Gimli troops.

The titan arrived at the spot, but not a single fighter was there. The only thing present was a border marker, pink and purple, identical to the one at the Machine desert.

Epilogue:

The most common story on the end of Silvius is that he committed suicide with Marcus' pistol, the one he always carried with him. Titan number four is assumed lost, not a single atom was ever recovered.

And rumours, of course there are rumours. There are rumours of a boy that escaped the slaughter there, a single survivor of the slaughter that took place. When the Inquisitional forces inspected the site of number four's demise, they found a border marker, pink and purple, the old Inquisition's colours. A message had been painted on the marker, in bright red paint. It read 'H.O.M.E.'

Well, a view of the sphere never seen before. Where are these cities? I'm sending for MapMakers.