What could you never finish?

Kind of the antithesis of JohnAdcox's What's Everyone Working on Now thread, what have you started, but were never able to finish and why? Personally, I've never finished any story I've started, so its easy for me.

I've started two stories based in the Battletech/Mechwarrior universe, both about elements of the pseudo-merc unit I created years ago called the First Volunteer Armored Cavalry Regiment. One pretty long one that I posted here a while back, and here's the other that I only got the first chapter.

Any advice?

Tinker Town South, Sevren
September 23, 3025


“God-dang, dirty, son-of-a biscuit eater!”
Against all efforts, the offending myomer power relay board wouldn’t budge. Straining and red faced from exertion, Tech Corporal Boo Hamill released pressure on the board extractor with a whoosh of breath. Although she had only been working on the Valkyrie in the noisy `Mech bay for an hour trying to diagnose what had caused every myomer in it’s left leg to seize up during a long range patrol, Boo was already covered from head to toe with grime.
Filling out inventory reports on his desk in the noisy din of the mech bay, Tech Sergeant Lanny Barns looked up to see Boo poke her head from the mech`s open hip section. “What’s the problem Corporal?”, he called up.
“Power relay’s fused to the stupid terminal Sarge...it’s stuck.”
“Well, un-stick it.” Barnes replied. “Corb needs his mech functional by this afternoon or it’ll affect G troop’s readiness report.”
Boo looked back at the troublesome relay and glared at it angrily. ``Un-stick it. Alright, I`ll un-stick this sucker good.”
Looking around, she noticed a two and a-half foot pipe in the waste bin on the scaffold from which she was working. With an evil grin, she picked up the pipe and slid it over the board extractor handle to give it more leverage. Setting her bare feet against the side of the open mech chassis and using the edge of the mech`s hip joint as a fulcrum, Boo sucked in a deep breath full of air, and pushed with all her might. It didn’t move a micron.
On the floor of the mech bay, Barnes was startled by a feral growl followed by a loud, CLANG!
“Goddang...” CLANG! “...Dirty...” CLANG! “...Son-of-a...” CRASH! Her last stomp sent the now very un-stuck relay rocketing straight up into the air while the extractor went soaring across the mech bay.
“Heads!” Boo sang out, her eyes never leaving the relay board hovering ten meters above her head as the extractor crashed among a group scrambling astechs.
“Dammit Boo!” Barnes yelled as Boo nimbly caught the relay board on its way down. “You could`a taken somebody’s head off!”
“Don’t you cuss at me.” Boo retorted as she began scraping the carbonization off of the relay board’s serial number with her thumbnail. “No blood, no foul...M629S8CN!? Whoa...HEY SARGE! This power relay’s for a Centurion!”
“What?” Barnes exclaimed scratching his bald head. He pulled up the maintenance report on his computer screen. “You don’t suppose Corb decided to come out here to do a little maintenance of his own after the banquet `night before last do you?”
“It’s possible.” Boo replied. “He started hittin` the punch bowl pretty early as I recall. Better ask McLeash if he’s missin` any relays.”
Boo chewed on her bottom lip as she stared at the relay board. “ Sarge, the whole time Corb was on patrol, this thing was zingin` anywhere between ten and fifteen percent more juice down this leg than it was designed to handle.”
Barnes waited for Boo to continue.
“Eventually all the extra heat must’ve caused the control circuits to go south. That probably caused the myomers to contract all at the same time givin` this Valkyrie a big ol`, mech sized charlie-horse. Now I`ll guarantee you that all the myomers on this leg got trashed pretty good. I can already see that there’s been some fiber damage. They might be all right for the time being, but it’s only a matter of time before any one of ‘em gives out.” Boo paused, chewing on lip again.
“Go on Boo.”
“Well Sarge, I`ll have to run some tests, but I`ll give you even odds that this leg’s skeletal structure got warped on account of the stress that this relay was putting on it. If that’s the case, then we may have to...”
“...Replace the whole thing.” Barnes finished. “Dammit.” His forehead wrinkled as he pondered a course of action. “Well, that’s it. We’re just gonna have to put this mech on the inactive list until we figure out how much damage that drunk idiot did. He’s definitely gonna get written up for this.”
Boo wasn’t even listening as she looked back and forth between the relay and the terminal port. “How in the heck did he ever fit this thing in there?” she asked no one in particular. “He must’ve really been walkin` with the ancients...”
“Corporal Hamill!”
Boo`s contemplation interrupted, she looked down at the floor of the bay, recognizing her Platoon CO, Lieutenant Nibs. “Yes Sir?”
“Captain Loss wants to see you in her office ASAP...but I`d take the time to get cleaned up.”
“Yes Sir.”
“And put some damn shoes on this time.” The Lieutenant called back over his shoulder as he walked back out of the bay.
“Yes Sir.” Boo frowned as she began collecting her tools. “For cryin` in the river...what is it this time?”
Ten minutes later, Boo was more than a little nervous as she waited for a column of heavy transports to pass on the dusty, packed dirt `road` she had to walk across on her way to the headquarters of the 2nd Armored Cavalry Squadron, 1st Volunteer Armored Cavalry Regiment...the unit that her tech platoon was usually attached to. She looked over at the pair of Riflemen towering over the tents and Quonset huts in the distance standing in silent vigil...their scanners searching the skies for the enemy. The most powerful machines man had dared to create, yet without Boo, and people like her, they were about as potent as ten meter tall statues.
This was not the first time she had been “invited” to the XO`s office. Never one to conform, Boo`s various eccentricities, such as never being able to keep her shoes on while working in the mech bay...or practically any other time for that matter, tended to ruffle a few feathers. If not for her natural technical abilities in conjunction with the informal atmosphere of the 5th Support Squadron, Boo would never have made it as far as she had. This, however didn’t make being dressed down any more enjoyable.
------------
Sergeant Aaron Sharpe glanced up from the personnel file he was reading when the staff clerk poked his head into Captain Loss`s office. “Corporal Hamill here to see you ma’am.”
“Send her in.” the Captain replied.
Sharp placed the file on the Captain’s desk as Corporal Ellen “Boo” Hamill entered the office and gave him a curious look as she approached the desk.
“Tech Corporal Hamill reporting as ordered ma’am.”
It wasn’t that Sharpe was surprised. Despite it’s size, the 1st Volunteer ACR was a community...a family even, so he had seen and talked to Hamill from time to time, but Sharpe couldn’t help but be unimpressed. Despite a somewhat athletic build, at barely 5`the corporal barely reached his chest. In addition to the smudges of mech lubricant on the diminutive tech`s face, there were two circular patches around her brown eyes that were marginally cleaner than the rest of her face as a result of the goggles she sometimes wore while working. At least she had changed into a relatively clean jump suit, and her short, brown hair was still wet...no doubt from sticking her head under a water hose on the way to this meeting.
It wasn’t that Sgt. Sharpe was sexist. Except possibly for the Dracs, nobody could afford that kind of attitude this day and age. Besides, Sharpe knew of more than one female in his troop that could beat him in a fair fight...too bad for them he never fought fair. Additionally, Captain Loss had assured him that the Corporal was one of the most gifted techs in the regiment. She regularly qualified in the top percentile during biannual Cross training exercises with the infantry and was an accomplished cross-country runner. She’d never been in real combat, but the same could be said for a lot of the personnel in the 5th. No...the thing that bothered him the most was that Hamill was known far and wide for her rebellious streak...something that may be overlooked here in the support squadron, but it could get someone killed in the field.
“Have a seat Corporal.” the Captain began. “I`ll get straight to the point. Something has come up that requires your technical skills in the field. Sgt. Sharp will be in charge of the mission, so I`ll let him explain.”
As the Corporal looked at him, Sharpe couldn’t tell if he saw excitement or anxiety in her eyes...or both. “You’ll get a full briefing with the rest of the team later, but this is the basic situation. Yesterday at 2200 hours, a Leopard class dropship of the 8th Donegal Guards suffered a severe systems failure while approaching for an assault drop during a nighttime training operation. The dropship was able to recover, but as a result of this mishap, two 8th DG mechs, a Griffin and a Wasp, were pre-maturely ejected over a largely unexplored equatorial rain forest. We haven’t been able to contact the mech pilots, or pinpoint the exact location of the mechs. For all we know, the pilots are dead and the mechs are destroyed...but we have to find out.”
“We know the general area that the mechs went down, however the thick jungle and remote location are not conducive to a mech operation...let alone vehicle. Additionally, the high jungle canopy and background radiation of this planet make locating the mechs from air impossible, so a small rescue team is going to have to go in on foot to locate the mechs and hopefully recover both the mechs and their pilots.”
“Your role in this mission Corporal...” Captain Loss continued, “...will be two-fold. As you know, it hasn’t been that long since we captured this planet from the Dracs, so there is still a moderate amount of guerilla activity going on...particularly from the area in question. When the team secures the mechs, you will check them over. If they’re easily recoverable, we will airdrop any spare parts you may require, as well as mech jocks if needed, to take them out. If, however, you cannot repair them in the field, you will make sure any guerillas that stumble on to them cannot use anything to cause trouble before we evac the pilots out.`
Corporal Hamill`s eyes grew wide at that. “You want me to blow up the Bonny Gals` mechs? They aren’t liable to appreciate that too much.” She remarked, then quickly added, `Ma’am.`
Despite himself, Sharpe had to hold back a grin. “As you know Corporal, This planet’s garrison forces are on alert due to an expected raid by Kurita forces. We currently don’t have the time or the resources to mount a full scale salvage operation, and we certainly don’t need guerillas armed with those mechs causing trouble if we are attacked...besides, the Captain didn’t say `blow them up`. All you need to do is incapacitate anything that the enemy can use until we can mount a salvage op.”
Captain Loss leaned forward in her seat toward Boo. “You are capable of doing that, aren’t you?”
The Corporal nodded. “Affirmative. I’m even better at breakin` things than I am at fixin` `em Ma’am.”
“Am I to assume then, that you are up for this mission?”
“Affirmative Ma’am.”
“Very well.” Loss began to stand while Sharpe and Hamill followed suit. “The formal briefing will be in one hour. Be ready to move out at 1700 hours. Until then, you are both dismissed.”
As Sgt. Sharpe lead Boo out of the office, he glanced at her over his shoulder. “Corporal?”
“Yes Sergeant?”
“Make sure you pack extra socks for this hump.” Sharpe said pointedly.
Boo looked down at her bare feet and grimaced. “Yes Sergeant.”

Within even the most cohesive combat unit there is a tangible schism between infantry and mechwarriors, whether it be good-natured rivalry or outright animosity. It can probably be traced all the way back to the time when mounted knights were considered to be the paragon of a warrior, when it was the peasant foot soldiers that did the majority of the dying on the battlefield. The average infantryman tends to view mechwarriors as arrogant jocks who can only feel brave behind ten tons of armor and enough weaponry to level a city block. The fact that more than a few grunts have seen the bottom of a mech`s foot decorated with the remains of their comrades doesn’t help much either. This is not to say that there cannot be respect and an amount of kinship between the two, but for a grunt, there is always a certain amount of resentment for someone who doesn’t routinely stare unabridged death straight in the eyeball during battle.
Their little techno-weanies are even worse...so one can well imagine that Boo felt a great deal out of her element among the nine grim looking soldiers attired in battle gear seated with her in the Karnov UV as if flew just above the canopy of the rainforest.
Most of the team was made up of air assault infantry from the 4th Air Cavalry Squadron. Aside from the large and imposing Platoon Sgt. Sharpe, there was the second in command of the team Sgt. Karen Price. The three riflemen were Corporal David Jakes, and Privates Vincent Li, and Shandra Tenkiller, each carrying Federated Long Rifles with mounted grenade launchers. The two fire support members of the team were privates Bubba Nagel and Jose Almain, both sporting portable machine guns. The team’s corpsman was Corporal Chase Buford, who was armed with a Roynex sub-machine gun like the one Boo had been issued. The final member of the team was the unusually soft spoken Sgt. Chance Peterson, a Pale Riders cav scout--elite light infantry who specialized in deep recon missions--the most unobtrusive and yet probably the most dangerous member of the team.
Boo turned to look out the window she sat next to on the left side of the Karnov. There she saw one of the two PRH-7 Warrior attack helicopter escorts positioned less than fifteen meters off to the side of the transport. At this close distance, Boo could see the chin mounted machine gun sweeping back and forth in tandem with the gunner’s helmet as he scanned the jungle canopy below for guerilla activity. Seated behind and slightly higher than the gunner, Boo saw the pilot as he casually kept the lethal looking machine on its steady course--ready to pounce at a moment’s notice on anyone or anything wishing to do his charge harm.
Despite her uneasy feelings, as Boo watched the gunship she couldn’t help but experience a feeling of euphoria. She felt like she was a part of something powerful. An embodiment of determination composed of professional soldiers, cold steel, raw horsepower, deadly weaponry, and above all else, a unified purpose--all of which combined into a whole that was greater than the sum of it’s parts...an indomitable force of pure intent that thundered over the rainforest below at 162 Kph.
Grinning from ear to ear, Boo turned back towards her teammates in the Karnov and saw the guarded looks most of them were giving her. Her smile faded and her heart plummeted as reality came rushing back. She was not a part of the team--she was just unwanted baggage along for the ride. Boo’s uneasiness was quickly transforming to frustration.
The grip of Boo’s Rorynex sub-machine gun was digging uncomfortably into her ribs. As she shifted it around onto her lap, her combat helmet slid forward on her head. She angrily slapped it back into place. Corporal Li, who at a somewhat short 5`8` was still half a head taller than Boo, spoke up over the roar of the engines.
“If that weapon’s too big for you, I`d be happy to carry it for you Corporal.” He said with a smirk.
Boo’s frustration, now turned to anger, quickly got the better of her. “Negative Corporal, but you can carry my foot up your...”
“L.Z. in one minute” came the co-pilot’s voice over the intercom.
Sharpe glanced up from his maps to see Boo glaring angrily at Corporal Li and the rest of the chortling teammates. “At ease people.” Sharpe said, as the jumpmaster began making his way around the Karnov to check the repelling lines. “Collect your gear and get ready to dismount.”
Thirty seconds later wind and engine noise flooded the interior of the VTOL as it’s two side and single rear doors opened. Boo felt her stomach lurch as the Karnov`s two massive tiltrotors swiveled upright into a vertical flight configuration causing the vehicle to jump slightly before the pilot could compensate.
As the Karnov slowed to a hover, Boo walked towards the rear door. Since this would be a combat insertion, all team members would repel out of the VTOL at the same time--three each out the two side doors, and Boo was one of the four that would exit the rear door.
Feeling more nervous than afraid, Boo attached the line to her repelling gear and assumed her position, kicked out the weighted line bag along side Sharpe, Nagel, and Almain and waited for the jump master to give the signal. Although she was green to this kind of operation, she was not exactly a novice. Boo actually enjoyed the biannual regimental cross-training qualifications, an intense three week course in which Pale Riders support personnel are drilled alongside the air assault infantry--and she did very well at it if she did say so herself.
Finally, the jumpmaster gave the nod. “Go! Go! Go!”
Boo kicked away from the door, and determined not to make a fool out of herself, descended quickly past the circling gunships to the rain forest below with the rest of the team. Training, unfortunately, is not the same as experience. As the solid looking jungle canopy rushed up towards her, Boo’s survival instincts momentarily overrode her common sense. She slowed her descent to a stop as the rest of the team disappeared through the leafy branches that swirled in the prop wash.
“Dang it, Ga-DANG it!” Boo briefly closed her eyes and touched her forehead to the line as she cursed silently to herself before resuming her descent into the canopy.
Moments later, Boo had emerged from the canopy and began descending the final thirty meters to the jungle floor. The change in environment from that above the canopy was remarkable. It was much darker, there was very little wind, and the air was more humid. Even the engine noise from the Karnov and Warriors hovering above sounded slightly muted--farther away. It was almost as if she were descending into an unimaginably huge hypostyle hall, with legions of buttressed columns scattered haphazardly for as far as she could see into the darkness holding up the immense green roof.
When she finally reached the ground, the rest of the team was already deployed, their weapons drawn and trained at the dark surrounding jungle. Steele had his maps and compass out again, and Peterson was nowhere to be seen.
Boo uncoupled herself from the line. As she jogged towards the group, Sharpe glanced up at her. “Glad you could finally make it Corporal.”
At that, Corporal Li let out a chuckle. “Yeah Hamill. The Sarge was about to send me back up there to see what was keepin you.”
As Boo glared at Li while re-arranging her gear, Sgt. Sharpe keyed the transceiver at his throat. “Foxhound Six to Huntsman.”
“This is Huntsman, go ahead Foxhound Six.”
“Huntsman, we are all clear, you may cut the cord.”
“Affirmative Foxhound Six, we are releasing lines…now.”
Almost in unison, the ten lines were released, coiling haphazardly with more and more speed as they descended, until the uppermost ends all hit the ground with rapid-fire thumps.
“Foxhound Six, we are returning to base. We’ll put some on ice for you.”
“Affirmative Huntsman. Thanks for the lift.” Sharpe replied as the engine noises above increased in pitch and then slowly began to fade.
Minutes later, as Li and Tenkiller were finishing up burying all the repelling lines, Sgt. Peterson emerged from the jungle.
“No sign of activity in this area Sgt. Sharpe. Most of the animal tracks I saw were on the smallish side. Mostly cloven hoofed--probably feral pigs, some reptilian, a big cat--not big enough to worry about though. There’s also some kind of primates around here. Again, not terribly big. About the size of a medium sized dog I`d say--thirty to thirty-five kilos.”
Corporal Tenkiller`s eyes widened somewhat at that. “That’s interesting. I don’t remember hearing anything about primates on this planet.”
“No big deal.” Private Almain replied as he draped the sling of his big machine gun over his shoulder. “Just souvenirs from Terra that ran off and found a niche--like most of the animals on this planet.”
“Yeah Almain?” Sharpe quipped. “When are you gonna run off and find yours?”
Almain clutched his chest in mock pain. “Ouch Sarge, that really hurts-especially coming from you.”
“I’m touched that you hold my opinion in such high regard.” Sharpe said sarcastically. “Okay people, the target area covers roughly ninety square kilometers, so quit jawin` and start humpin` it. Peterson, take the point--50 meters. Report in every ten mikes. Let’s go.”

That's as far as I got. I had in mind some stuff that I wanted, but really didn't have any idea how it would end. Not sure why I never went any further.

Heck2.
Nobody Loves Harry Hembock.

I've got a trek fanfic that I started at least 15 years ago. Love the characters I created (new ship, new crew, TNG era), got them into an interesting situation, but can't find a point for the story or a place to go with it. 40 pages or so, sitting there for a decade.

I really should get around to finishing my Jovian trilogy one of these years.

I got two ENT fanfics that have been dormant for two years. One of them I had just finished typing the last words to when my first coputer crashed two years ago Never got a chance to edit it or nothing. By the time I had enough money to retrieve the harddrive and place it into my new one, I couldn't care less about ENt or fanfiction to re-do it and make it mesh with what I had already.

The fic was pretty lackluster anyway.

Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

I was going to write the ultimate crossover slashfic, "Harry Potter and the Price of the Phoenix" but then my medication kicked in.

The only real fiction I write is adventures for my role-playing group. I'm currently struggling with one d20 Modern adventure where the heroes have to track down and save a missing teenager who hacked into a corporate database, stole sensitive information, and now has professional hitmen after him. I have the beginning, and I have a general idea of how it should end, but I'm trying to figure out how it should progress. What clues appear for the heroes to follow, making it intriguing enough to not bore the crap out of the players, that sort of stuff.

Apart from that, I'm struggling to work out the details for an isometric 3-D game engine programmed in Actionscript, but that's more Geekforge material.

I plan to write "Harry Potter and the Order of the Penis," where ten years in the future, Harry has organized his own porn studio and becomes the Wizarding World's number one Adult film producer.

^Harry Potter and His Magical Wand

Heh, my word of advice, never leave any notebooks pertaining to d20 modern at work.

I did that once and got the cops called on me.

A date .

Accuracy