---
Capital
Itrom
Aurigan Reach, Outward Periphery
1 December 3120
“I can see for miles and miles.” Maxwell McKree bounced enthusiastically up and down in his seat as he listened to The Who on his earbuds. So caught up in the revelry of listening to the thousand year old rock song that he’d not noticed the nervous glances of his fellow passengers on the bus.
In truth, there were two reasons the bus riders were anxious. One was Max’s over-enthusiastic dance-like movements that stood in stark contrast with the dour spirit of the rest of the passengers. The other was the uncased Model 2776 Winchester rifle in the seat next to Max. His pride and joy, the weapon had been marketed as the “Hunter’s Ultimate Weapon.” It was wondrous combination of the primitive and the over-engineered. The majority of the weapons components were identical to its 19th century namesake: lever action, cased rounds, 15-shot magazine, even brass plating. The rest was vintage Star League era lostech, an oil lens scope with rangefinder and microcomputer, all of which worked together to do the work of telling the shooter how to compensate for gravity and wind on long range shots. In the hands of a novice shooter, you almost couldn’t miss with any shot further out than 100 meters. In the hands of an even remotely practiced shooter, all that tech was completely superfluous.
In truth, the city folk on that bus had little reason to be surprised by Max’s presence or his rifle. This particular bus route led to the train station and the trains led to the frontier and to the wilderness. It was not unusual for people from the Capital to take outdoor excursions for hunting or fishing into the wilderness and this bus would have been one of the key ways they’d get back home.
Which was precisely what Max was doing. Coming home from a two week holiday hunting and exploring the frontier of Itrom. He paused momentarily in his musical revelry to note where the bus had traveled. Familiar buildings met his eyes. He was in his neighborhood, just a few minutes from home.
He came to his feet and scooped up the rifle and his backpack on the floor. Two weeks without a decent shower and a set of clean clothes would soon come to an end. Max looked around at his fellow passengers for the first time and his thought was not about how his weapon might be intimidating them, but rather how much his stink probably bothered them.
The bus came to a stop and Max made to disembark. He stepped out onto the street to a bit of surprise. It was a Wednesday, midweek, and so he could hear the loud noise of construction machines busy at the site across from the bus stop. As the bus moved on, his eyes fell upon a new construction site where several private homes had stood when he had left for his trip.
“That was quick.” He commented out loud. Then he frowned. The ConstructionMechs he witnessed working away on what appeared to be a new shopping complex were not from his company, but rather one of their more unethical rivals.
“Ashley.” he growled under his breath. He hoisted his rifle onto his right shoulder and flung his backpack over his left and started to walk down the street to his home.
The “Ashley” he referred to was his ex-girlfriend Ashley Madiera, now mayor of the capital and the #2 most powerful person on the planet. Born of the noble House Madiera, Ashley and Max had met in the military; She was his BattleMech lance’s commanding officer. Despite the disparity in their upbringing (Max was as blue collar as they came) and the not-often-enforced taboo about officers fraternizing with their subordinates, Ashley and Max quickly friends and then a lot more.
But that was before Laconis.
One of the worlds the Aurigan Reach had gobbled up after the near-total collapse of the neighboring Taurian Concordat, Laconis was the first major posting of Ashley and Max’s unit after they sprang out of training. Little did they or the Aurigan government know that Laconis was in the crosshairs of another interstellar power: The Capellan Confederation.
Roughly six months after Max and Ashley had arrived on world, a massive Capellan invasion force touched down on Laconis. The fighting was brutal and the woefully out-matched Aurigans did their best. Max’s lance was one of the lucky ones. They all got out alive. Most Aurigan units could not make the same claim. But even having survived the crucible of battle, none of them were ever the same again. Max and Ashley both washed out of the military shortly thereafter, too damaged by PTSD to be of much use. Once back home on Itrom, the divide between noble and commoner became much more pronounced and the two were forced apart by the demands and expectations of the Periphery’s feudal society.
As much as it might sound like the tragic end to two star-crossed lovers, the truth was more complicated. Laconis had changed them. Max had become passionate, fiery, political. He unionized the workers at his construction company and was working to do the same to all WorkMech laborers across the planet. Ashley, by contrast, had become greedy and cruel. Ever since worming her way into the Mayor’s office with her noble blood and elite connections, she’d worked tirelessly to line her pockets and those of her business croneys. The two could not be less alike if they’d tried.
And then there was Roberta, or Bobbie, as most everyone called her. Bobbie was Max’s twin sister and also served in his lance on Laconis. And like the others, the battle had changed her. Now estranged from Max, Bobbie was fully in Ashley’s camp, working for her unofficially as a leg-breaker and thug. The thought of his sister doing that sort of work for that sort of person filled Max with disgust.
He shook his head and began walking up the street. After about a block or so, he came to the home of one of his neighbors. Although the man obviously had a real name, no one ever called him by it. To most in the neighborhood, he was just the “old man,” an old veteran who’d actually fought for the Federated Suns during the Word of Blake Jihad. Seeing as that war was now over 50 years ended, the “Old Man” truly was, probably in his mid-70s somewhere.
The Old Man was on his porch, peeling an orange. He looked up to see Max coming down the street.
“Hello there, young man.” he called out. “Back from your adventure, I see. Slay any dragons while you were out?” The old man chuckled at his own joke.
“No dragons.” said Max, playing along. “A couple of really fierce squirrels and a possum. But they met their match and once vanquished, they became dinner.” Max rubbed his belly for effect and the two of them both laughed.
“That child’s toy of yours I’m sure makes that easy.”
“Toy? This?” Max brought the rifle off his shoulder. “You do know these go for around 2000 C-Bills on the open market? Expensive toy.”
“Only because most people can’t shoot straight. And you won yours in a raffle. So don’t quote price to me. You’ve told me that story a thousand times now.”
“It was a good cause. Lots of war orphans got food to eat thanks to my company commander raffling off this gun.” Max swung the rifle back over his shoulder and pointed down the street, to the construction zone that was still visible in the distance. “So what’s the story about that? What happened?”
“Them Liaotians got themselves in trouble for anti-government sentiments, so Dear Lady Madiera had them arrested and their property seized.” The Old Man spat. “I guess it’s illegal now to have thoughts or something.”
“More like it’s illegal to be Capellan at all.” said Max, using the more polite term for the residents of those homes. “Liaotians” was a mild slur for any immigrant who hailed from the Capellan Confederation, particularly those of Asian ethnicity. The Old Man was one of those more casual racists; hardly the white hood and noose type from past generations, but certainly not above some crude language towards the people whose nation he’d once fought in the wars.
The Old Man picked up the change. “Hmph! You’d think someone who got his ass handed to him on Laconis wouldn’t be terribly sympathetic to a bunch of...” He paused to consider his next words. “...them.” He concluded.
“The reason they are here is because their government is run by an incestuous madman. You fought the thugs of that madman’s father and I fought his thugs. I’ll have sympathy for anyone who flees those thugs and that madman, regardless of what they look like.” said Max boldly.
“Suit yourself. They’re all Cappies to me.” That was an even less polite term than “Liaotian.”
Sensing where the conversation was headed, Max took his leave and headed for home. The Old Man was hardly alone in his sentiments. At least his bigotry was grounded in the nightmare of war against the people of the Capellan Confederation, and while that was hardly an excuse, it at least made his disdain understandable. Less so the rest of the population of Itrom, whose only real encounter with the “evils” of the Capellans was by proxy, through soldiers who’d fought against the invasion of 3115 like Max. But bigots had taken the stories of the war and run with them as excuse to hate and mistrust the refugees of that same war who’d fled into the Periphery to escape the tyranny of Daoshen Liao.
And now it seemed Ashley Madiera had found a way to use that bigotry and distrust to line her pockets further. Max had no doubts that the seized property was very quickly transferred into the ownership of one or more of her sycophantic business partners.
“Well, she’s gotten away with this little stunt. That’ll only embolden her. Someone should do something. And yeah, crap, I’m someone.” thought Max, half with mirth and half with great trepidation.
No comments:
Post a Comment