Victoria Commonality, Capellan Confederation
7 July 3134
Maxwell McKree walked up the ramp into the repair bay of the Aurora-class dropship. The dropship belonged to a mercenary company known as Behemoth’s Bombardiers. A company that, despite their cliched name, was a long standing and storied unit in the Periphery, with a history that led back to the Fourth Succession War era, over a hundred years.
For nearly 14 years, Max had served as a mercenary mechwarrior. He’d signed on to numerous outfits over the years and, as was often the case, few of those units lasted more than a few years. Max was hoping to change his luck; when he heard the Bombardiers were hiring seasoned mechwarriors, he sent them his application. They’d responded and had asked them to swing by their dropship for a face-to-face interview.
Max looked up at the WHM-6R Warhammer that dominated the bay where he’d entered. The design was old, very old; dating from before the founding of the Star League. Despite that, it was still a formidable weapon of war: Twin particle cannon, a large short-range missile launcher, and two pair each of medium lasers, small lasers, and machine guns were more than enough firepower to discourage most foes. It’s lack of a modern coolant system and armor was its only real drawback.
“Hello!” Max called out. He heard a thump in response from the mech’s exposed leg.
“Ouch!” came a voice. “Hello. Give me just a second.” Crawling out from within the mech’s superstructure was the shortest woman Max had ever seen. She was dirty; her hair, skin, and clothes covered with dust, grime, and grease. She stood up and walked over to Max.
“You must be the rookie.” she said. “I’m Lilly, the chief tech.” She pulled off her work glove and proffered a clean hand for a handshake.
“Pleased to meet you, Lilly. Yeah, I guess I am the rookie, although I’ve been fighting in machines like that for over 15 years.”
“Yeah, she’s a beauty, isn’t she? We’ve got some newer machines in the company, but Crapshoot won’t part with her.”
“Crapshoot?”
“Call sign of Alpha Four. Owner of this machine.”
“I think I’m looking for Alpha One. Behemoth.” He pronounced the call sign in the “American” fashion, as Bee-he-muth.
Lilly chuckled. “That’s my sister. And it’s pronounced Bay-eh-moth, by the way.”
“British English. Gotcha. So, do they give you a nickname, Lilly?”
“Oh, I answer to lots of things. Short stuff, Munchkin, Tiny, even Bilbo Baggins on occasion.”
“You let people make fun of your height?”
Lilly shrugged. “I’m only 1.4 meters tall. I can’t hide or change that. So, let them mention it. I can tell the difference when someone is teasing me playfully and when someone means to insult me.” She looked at Max and smiled. “Anyway, Behemoth is on the bridge. You been on an Aurora before?”
“Many times.”
“Then I imagine you know how to get to the bridge from here. She’s waiting for you. Hopefully, I’ll see you around.”
“Agreed.”
---
The interview with Behemoth went very well. Max got the feeling within five minutes of the conversation beginning that Behemoth had already made up her mind about him before he’d even arrived. Most of the interview was the two of them swapping war stories.
“Alright,” said Behemoth, bringing the conversation to a close. “You’re smart enough to have figured out you’ve got the job. What call sign do you want?”
“I typically go by Pendragon.”
“Really?” said Behemoth. “Isn’t that interesting?” Max was curious as to her reaction, but before he could inquire about it, she resumed talking. “Well, welcome to the Bombardiers. You are Dispossessed right now, correct?”
Dispossessed. An archaic term for a mechwarrior without a mech. That used to be the worst fate any mechwarrior could face, but the scarce times of the old Succession Wars were long gone. With thousands of old mechs in storage across the Inner Sphere and the Periphery, all thanks to Devlin Stone’s Demilitarization Initiatives after the Jihad, finding another ride was easy. No longer did that term bear the shame it once did, but Max was again curious why she’d use that old term. He nodded. “Yeah, got my Centurion shot out from under me on my last job.”
“Well, you’re in luck. I think we have a Centurion in storage. You’ll be Alpha Three, Pendragon. Serving in my lance.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Max tossed her a mock salute. “So when do I get to check out my ride?”
Behemoth sneezed. “Damn allergies. Our reserves are aboard the Argo, up in orbit. We got a job lined up and our employer is coming by tomorrow for final negotiations. Find yourself a bunk and move in. I intend to launch after that meeting finishes tomorrow. Once were docked with the Argo, Lilly’ll get you lined up with your new ride.”
“Sounds good. I’ll head back to town and get my gear.”
Aurora Dropship Atlantia
Detroit
Victoria Commonality, Capellan Confederation
8 July 3134
Max did as he was told. He cleaned out his room at the boarding house and brought his belongings aboard the Atlantia. Over a decade moving from merc unit to merc unit had taught him to travel light. One pack of clothes, his Winchester 2776 Rifle, and his snub-nose EL-631 revolver were really all he carried. That, and a small tablet computer filled with digital photos of his family and friends, memories of lives he’d left behind.
He was cleaning his EL-631 when the PA system barked. “Pendragon, report to the bridge.”
Max stood up and set down the disassembled parts of his pistol on his bunk. Hoping no one would disturb his work, he headed toward the bridge.
He stepped onto the bridge a few minutes later. In addition to Behemoth and the command staff of the Bombardiers, there were two other men. The first was a massive bear of a man, probably 2 meters tall at least. While he looked fat, Max could tell by the way he moved that he was easily 140 kilos of pure muscle, the sort of fellow that could pick up a chain and drag a tractor-trailer rig across a parking lot by himself. The man was older, perhaps 70, and wore a Republic of the Sphere uniform.
The other was much younger, perhaps 35, and much smaller. He wore the uniform of the Northwind Highlanders, one of the most famous mercenary units in the Inner Sphere. The family resemblance between the two was obvious. They were a grandfather and grandson or some such arrangement.
“Pendragon, reporting as ordered.” said Max.
“Ah, so you’re the one who’s claimed the callsign of Patrick O’Brian.” said the older man.
“He’s a hero of mine. I’m Aurigan and he means a lot to my people.”
“Mine as well. I am Paladin Petar Victorius Messer and this is my nephew, Colonel Phillip O’Malley.”
“If you don’t mind my asking, sir, why the interest in my callsign? Behemoth thought it odd yesterday as well.”
“Do you believe in destiny, Mr. McKree?”
“I prefer the term ‘providence,’ but essentially yes.”
“Ah, a Christian, I take. No matter. We do as well. That’s why we’re here. Your signing on with the Bombardiers may be an omen.” The paladin chuckled. “It’s not a big deal. Perhaps just coincidence. But it is curious that someone would come on bearing O’Brian’s name at this particular juncture.”
“I don’t get it.”
“What do you know of O’Brian’s history?”
“I know he commanded a mercenary company known as Pendragon’s Dragoons throughout the Aurigan Civil War. After the war was over, he took some jobs in the Inner Sphere, working for House Steiner, I believe. Not sure what happened after that.”
“Well, your sense of history is correct. Pendragon’s unit fought in the Fourth War for the Lyran Commonwealth, helping Houses Davion and Steiner claim several worlds from House Marik. He won several military commendations for his valor in those battles, and the right to return. You see, O’Brian and his family were exiles from Steiner space. He redeemed his family name and he came home. He settled on a planet known as New Belfast. The ruling duke learned of O’Brian’s military record and asked him to raise a militia for the world. He did so and served with distinction for another twenty years, marrying and raising a family while he was at it.
“His mercenary unit, on the other hand, passed to his second-in-command, a woman named Miranda Aguilera. Callsign Behemoth.”
Max looked at Behemoth. “My great grandmother.” She confirmed.
“So you’re telling me, I signed on with the original Pendragon’s unit?”
“That’s exactly what we’re saying. And that is exactly what you did.” said Messer. “Now you know why I mentioned destiny.”
“Oh, that’s wild.” replied Max. “That’s just crazy.”
“It gets better.” said O’Malley. “You’re probably wondering why a Paladin of the Sphere and a Clan Elder of Northwind are out here on the edge of civilized space looking for mercenaries.”
“Well, I figured with the Blackout and all, the Republic was probably looking for some backup. The sharks are undoubtedly circling.” The Blackout was the name for the failure of interstellar communication that occurred on 7 August 3132. The entire Comstar communication grid that linked every colonized world failed utterly. Two years later and things still weren’t back to normal.
“Well, you’re right to some degree about the Republic. But it’s not the Republic that concerns us at the moment.” said O’Malley. “We’re here because of New Belfast.”
“O’Brian’s retirement planet?”
“The very same.”
“Why?”
“First, let me explain our interest.” said O’Malley. “O’Brian retired from all military duties in 3048, just before the Clan Invasion. He was replaced by a man named Robert O’Malley, my grandfather.”
“The Clans invaded.” said Messer, continuing the story. “They took New Belfast, but didn’t hold it. They were repelled by a FedCom known as the Star Swords. Commanding the Star Swords was my father, Joshua Messer.”
“You said you were uncle and nephew.” queried Max.
“Yes. My father adopted his father, Daniel. Daniel was later recognized as heir to the O’Malley estate on Northwind.”
“Destiny again.”
“Indeed.” said Messer. “Regardless, New Belfast fell back into Jade Falcon Clan hands during the Jihad and has remained one of their holdings ever since. The Jade Falcons have recently launched incursions into Lyran space, making a beeline for the Republic. Much of this is due to a new philosophy that has emerged among some of the Clans known as the Mongol Doctrine. Brutal, savage, bloodthirsty, these new Clanners are likely to impose the same sort of tyranny on New Belfast that my father fought to cast off.”
“So you’re sending us to help liberate the planet.”
“Wise of you to put it that way.” said Messer. “A single company of mercenaries is not nearly enough to repel the Jade Falcon garrison, even as weak as it now is. We want the Bombardiers to wage a guerilla campaign on New Belfast, assisting local partisans until support arrives. And it will arrive. We are hoping to draw Clan Wolf, a Clan that has rejected the Mongol Doctrine, into taking New Belfast. Not as ideal as being returned to Lyran control, but the Wolves are very much the lesser of two evils at this point.”
“So, we stir up trouble and then bail when Clan Wolf shows up.” said Behemoth, more to Max than anyone else.
“Something like that.” said Messer, implying that he was not sharing all the operational details of the mission.
“Fighting Clanners is not easy.” said Max. “They have a fearsome reputation.”
“You are being compensated appropriately. The hardest part is the journey. New Belfast is a fourth month trip from here on Detroit.”
“All the way to the other side of the Inner Sphere.” said Behemoth. “Should be fun.”
Victoria Commonality, Capellan Confederation
8 July 3134
Max did as he was told. He cleaned out his room at the boarding house and brought his belongings aboard the Atlantia. Over a decade moving from merc unit to merc unit had taught him to travel light. One pack of clothes, his Winchester 2776 Rifle, and his snub-nose EL-631 revolver were really all he carried. That, and a small tablet computer filled with digital photos of his family and friends, memories of lives he’d left behind.
He was cleaning his EL-631 when the PA system barked. “Pendragon, report to the bridge.”
Max stood up and set down the disassembled parts of his pistol on his bunk. Hoping no one would disturb his work, he headed toward the bridge.
He stepped onto the bridge a few minutes later. In addition to Behemoth and the command staff of the Bombardiers, there were two other men. The first was a massive bear of a man, probably 2 meters tall at least. While he looked fat, Max could tell by the way he moved that he was easily 140 kilos of pure muscle, the sort of fellow that could pick up a chain and drag a tractor-trailer rig across a parking lot by himself. The man was older, perhaps 70, and wore a Republic of the Sphere uniform.
The other was much younger, perhaps 35, and much smaller. He wore the uniform of the Northwind Highlanders, one of the most famous mercenary units in the Inner Sphere. The family resemblance between the two was obvious. They were a grandfather and grandson or some such arrangement.
“Pendragon, reporting as ordered.” said Max.
“Ah, so you’re the one who’s claimed the callsign of Patrick O’Brian.” said the older man.
“He’s a hero of mine. I’m Aurigan and he means a lot to my people.”
“Mine as well. I am Paladin Petar Victorius Messer and this is my nephew, Colonel Phillip O’Malley.”
“If you don’t mind my asking, sir, why the interest in my callsign? Behemoth thought it odd yesterday as well.”
“Do you believe in destiny, Mr. McKree?”
“I prefer the term ‘providence,’ but essentially yes.”
“Ah, a Christian, I take. No matter. We do as well. That’s why we’re here. Your signing on with the Bombardiers may be an omen.” The paladin chuckled. “It’s not a big deal. Perhaps just coincidence. But it is curious that someone would come on bearing O’Brian’s name at this particular juncture.”
“I don’t get it.”
“What do you know of O’Brian’s history?”
“I know he commanded a mercenary company known as Pendragon’s Dragoons throughout the Aurigan Civil War. After the war was over, he took some jobs in the Inner Sphere, working for House Steiner, I believe. Not sure what happened after that.”
“Well, your sense of history is correct. Pendragon’s unit fought in the Fourth War for the Lyran Commonwealth, helping Houses Davion and Steiner claim several worlds from House Marik. He won several military commendations for his valor in those battles, and the right to return. You see, O’Brian and his family were exiles from Steiner space. He redeemed his family name and he came home. He settled on a planet known as New Belfast. The ruling duke learned of O’Brian’s military record and asked him to raise a militia for the world. He did so and served with distinction for another twenty years, marrying and raising a family while he was at it.
“His mercenary unit, on the other hand, passed to his second-in-command, a woman named Miranda Aguilera. Callsign Behemoth.”
Max looked at Behemoth. “My great grandmother.” She confirmed.
“So you’re telling me, I signed on with the original Pendragon’s unit?”
“That’s exactly what we’re saying. And that is exactly what you did.” said Messer. “Now you know why I mentioned destiny.”
“Oh, that’s wild.” replied Max. “That’s just crazy.”
“It gets better.” said O’Malley. “You’re probably wondering why a Paladin of the Sphere and a Clan Elder of Northwind are out here on the edge of civilized space looking for mercenaries.”
“Well, I figured with the Blackout and all, the Republic was probably looking for some backup. The sharks are undoubtedly circling.” The Blackout was the name for the failure of interstellar communication that occurred on 7 August 3132. The entire Comstar communication grid that linked every colonized world failed utterly. Two years later and things still weren’t back to normal.
“Well, you’re right to some degree about the Republic. But it’s not the Republic that concerns us at the moment.” said O’Malley. “We’re here because of New Belfast.”
“O’Brian’s retirement planet?”
“The very same.”
“Why?”
“First, let me explain our interest.” said O’Malley. “O’Brian retired from all military duties in 3048, just before the Clan Invasion. He was replaced by a man named Robert O’Malley, my grandfather.”
“The Clans invaded.” said Messer, continuing the story. “They took New Belfast, but didn’t hold it. They were repelled by a FedCom known as the Star Swords. Commanding the Star Swords was my father, Joshua Messer.”
“You said you were uncle and nephew.” queried Max.
“Yes. My father adopted his father, Daniel. Daniel was later recognized as heir to the O’Malley estate on Northwind.”
“Destiny again.”
“Indeed.” said Messer. “Regardless, New Belfast fell back into Jade Falcon Clan hands during the Jihad and has remained one of their holdings ever since. The Jade Falcons have recently launched incursions into Lyran space, making a beeline for the Republic. Much of this is due to a new philosophy that has emerged among some of the Clans known as the Mongol Doctrine. Brutal, savage, bloodthirsty, these new Clanners are likely to impose the same sort of tyranny on New Belfast that my father fought to cast off.”
“So you’re sending us to help liberate the planet.”
“Wise of you to put it that way.” said Messer. “A single company of mercenaries is not nearly enough to repel the Jade Falcon garrison, even as weak as it now is. We want the Bombardiers to wage a guerilla campaign on New Belfast, assisting local partisans until support arrives. And it will arrive. We are hoping to draw Clan Wolf, a Clan that has rejected the Mongol Doctrine, into taking New Belfast. Not as ideal as being returned to Lyran control, but the Wolves are very much the lesser of two evils at this point.”
“So, we stir up trouble and then bail when Clan Wolf shows up.” said Behemoth, more to Max than anyone else.
“Something like that.” said Messer, implying that he was not sharing all the operational details of the mission.
“Fighting Clanners is not easy.” said Max. “They have a fearsome reputation.”
“You are being compensated appropriately. The hardest part is the journey. New Belfast is a fourth month trip from here on Detroit.”
“All the way to the other side of the Inner Sphere.” said Behemoth. “Should be fun.”
No comments:
Post a Comment