Many benefactors wonder how, with the wealth of sleek and expensive equipment the colonial suppression forces field in major deployments, the burgeoning Coalition manages any resistance at all.
Carbon lattice conformal plating over high speed low drag counterpressure baselayers have been shown to resist small arms all the way up to the most modern electrochemical emplacements, while proprietary and tightly controlled Quik-Seal™ padding neatly and immediately patch the odd and unlikely puncture. How then, colonial benefactors ask, is the average mortality of sponsored econoterrorist suppression activity almost 70%?
A squad of ten peacekeepers should, by conflict projection data (graciously provided by ForceTac™) be able to enter a problematic worksite, identify and eliminate terrorist agitators, and exfiltrate - all while never encountering anything capable of more than light bruising. Operators are equipped with cutting edge mixed-dataflow thermal imaging suites, top of the line crowd suppressive HRHV (High-Rate High-Volume © ForceTac 2195) auto rifles, and the utmost planetary authority at their backs. How, then, generous corporate donors wonder, is the success rate of land-theft prevention operations in Coalition controlled area just shy of 30%?
The answer is simple. They've never met Red Bess. Or at least, they've never lived to tell the tale.
Red Bess goes by many names. Direct Action. Thundersuit. Molly. I'm sure you can think of more. She's the natural result of an arrogant and overfunded military force forgetting who they're dealing with. She's your friend and mine.
Miss Thing nearly always starts life as one of the old, handily misplaced exoatmospheric mining rigs. The ones hardened against micrometeorite strikes and explosives, the ones whose thermal management systems are meant for hard vaccum, with the shielded radiators that can keep the suit's shell just barely above ambient temperature with a nice breeze. The ones everyone complains don't show up well on thermals, that are so easy to lose track of in the dark.
The Lady Danger is a practical woman. She's partial to plate steel, thickness measured in centimeters, each slab with a tag or a drawing from someone on the crew. The Old Ma'am stands for everyone, after all. Her plates are sprayed with an easy adhesive, and dusted with whatever soil or dust is nearby. This is where she gets her name. An eight foot tall red steel wall, nearly invisible to electro-optics, damn hard to spot in a windstorm. Red Bess travels best under cover of dust.
Mama Red does not speak softly. Old series exorigs could mount any number of easily misused mining and manufacturing equipment, but common favorites are the electrochemical prospector probe launchers loaded with iron slugs or rail ties, and the old pattern rotary staketheowers, delimited and overcharged.
Next time the man comes knocking, and you're tired of the inspections, executions, and wage docks? Take some friends, raid an old equipment depot, and give Red Bess a call during your next sandstorm. The pigs won't know what hit 'em.
Just remember, loose lips sink ships. If the pigs know she's with us, she'll get a whole lot less effective. Treat her like a lady, don't spread nasty rumors of your time together. Bess isn't a lady you want visiting you in anger.
Remember, however you may feel, Red Bess is a hard woman. She doesn't take prisoners. She doesn't leave witnesses.
