Lummatii
Lothian League
Marian Hegemony
The Periphery
4 March, 3149
True to warnings, Freyja had been roused by one of the household staff at a little past sunrise, with news that the lord of the house requested her presence at the garage by nine that morning. They had brought her food while she washed and changed. She had cried herself to sleep the previous day, and slept well into the night. After a few minutes puttering around, she had dug through the bag of her possessions that had been brought along, mostly the clothes she had packed with her for her voyage to her mercenary career.
Luckily for her, that had included her MechWarrior garb. She dressed herself in black moisture and heat wicking leggings, her plasteel reinforced combat boots, and a gray sports bra of the same material as the leggings. She had her synthleather fingerless gloves, and tied her golden blonde hair back in a ponytail. She didn't have a jacket or sweater packed, and so tolerated the slight chill to the air, knowing that soon enough she would have no worries of cold in the cockpit of a Mech.
She was escorted to the door of what was apparently the Mech garage by a butler, and was met there by Ned Bakker, dressed also for MechWarrior duty. "What weight classes are you checked out on?"
Good, he wasn't going for small talk. After finally composing herself the night before, she had resolved to steel herself to her fate and handle things as calmly as she could. "All of them. I learned in an old Vindicator, but I've piloted everything from a Locust clear up to an Atlas."
"Come on then. Let's get going." He swiped a mag-key through a reader beside the door and the lock clicked open. He led the way and she followed into the cavernous bay beyond. It was only built to house two Mechs, and it currently only housed one, a Phoenix Hawk painted in black and dark blues that towered motionless above the two, encased in the gantry like some slumbering giant.
"A Phoenix Hawk. Looks like a newer model from the structure." She gazed up at the giant war machine, so peaceful for the moment.
Ned ran his hand over his beard. "Right you are. She's not even a hundred years old, built right before the Jihad. A seven-S spec model, slightly modified to carry an anti-missile system. She was mine when I served in the Eleventh Lyran Guards."
Freyja paused for a moment, her hands on her hips. "You'll forgive me, but if you're a MechWarrior, what do you need me for?"
Ned's shoulders slumped ever so slightly, an almost imperceptible frown touched his face for a moment as he replied. "I took a hit to the AMS ammo bin in a fight back in thirty-two. Right after the HPG grid went down, matter of fact. The CASE saved my life, and the engine, but the feedback messed with my head something fierce. I couldn't get adapted to a neurohelmet after that. Even my hand-eye coordination isn't that good any more. Clarissa was one of the combat medics that helped me, and after I got medically discharged, we made our way out here. I suppose I could have sold the Mech and made a killing, but I don't know, didn't seem right after all she'd seen me through. So she'll be Peter's one day. My son."
"Is that what he wants?" She didn't know why she blurted out such an impertinent sounding question, but she did.
Ned chuckled. "Oh yeah. You'll meet him soon enough. He'll probably be all over you when he finds out you're a MechWarrior. Hell, it'll probably even be enough for him to talk to you in spite of you being a girl," he laughed. "Peter is an awkward sixteen years old right now. Knows what he wants, but hasn't the fairest idea how to get it. My other child, Madeline, she's thirteen, and has to make sure everyone knows it. Bossy like her mother. Well, sorry to bore you with all the talk of my family and past and such."
Freyja caught herself smiling for the first time. "No, it's alright, sir. I didn't mean to cause offense with your injury either. I can't imagine not being able to pilot a Mech."
"You're far too young to be academy trained. Family was it?"
She nodded. "My mother is a MechWarrior. Actually, the women in my family have all been MechWarriors since my great grandmother. Well, some of the men too, I suppose."
"She trained you then?"
"A little. Mostly it was my aunt. Well, she's not really my aunt, but we always called her Aunt Cat. She was a trueborn Nova Cat from the days of the Clan invasion. I'm still not sure how she got involved with my great grandmother, but they were quite the pair in their day, quite inseparable and fought in more battles than I'll probably ever dream of. When I was twelve, she started taking me out for runs in the regimental training Mech, an old Vindi. Once I got the taste for it, you couldn't keep me out of a cockpit or a simulator."
"Why are you out here then, not in an academy, or at least a unit somewhere."
She laughed ever so slightly. "I suppose I'll be asking myself that question forever. Mostly I was a stupid child, who felt like she had to prove herself rather than have everything handed to her the way my brother did. I thought I'd run off and re-live the exploits of my great grandmother Faith, or some such nonsense." She paused and sighed. "Look where that ended up, right?"
Ned put a hand on her shoulder, and she fought off the urge to pull away. "You've your whole life ahead of you. More than enough time to prove whatever you have to. For now, lets just get to work."
They made their way over to the steps leading up the gantry which would take them up to the cockpit of the Hawk. Freyja stopped for a moment, tilting her head. "You'll forgive my curiosity, but aren't you a bit worried, turning over a BattleMech to a slave? What if I try to escape?"
Ned chuckled. "I'm not dense, girl. Her targeting and tracking system is disconnected, for one, so you'll not go blasting us to smithereens. But I've also got a kill switch built into the old girl's fusion reactor. She goes to sleep when I want her to. So don't get any ideas."
"Fair enough." With that, she made her way up the gantry and climbed into the cockpit, seating herself on the edge of the command couch while Ned climbed through and took his place in the small jump seat behind the main command couch. Closing the hatch, she donned the cooling vest, the neurohelmet, and sat back in the command couch, closing her eyes for a moment, savoring the chill of the cooling vest, before opening her eyes and beginning the startup sequence. "You never told me what exactly you needed a MechWarrior for, what the hell we're going to be doing out here."
"I've got tenants that pay rent and such, and I've got some agriculture, mostly enough to sustain the household. But mainly the money comes from an old quarry about ten klicks from here. The majority of the machinery is automated, and we pull ores and petrochemicals out. But it's dangerous down there. Things are Mech scale, there's fumes, risk of fire, heat, all that. To keep things running you need a Mech to monitor the machinery and the drill sites and such. An industrial mech will do the job, and up until last year, that's what I had."
She brought the mech to life, and slowly made their way out of the bay, punching up the HUD and finding several pre-programmed locations in the nav computer already. "So what happened?"
"Some of the machinery gave out. If it had been a BattleMech in there it would have been fine. But a piece of the machinery let go and punched through the DiggerMech's cockpit. Killed my guy straight away. Haven't been able to run the equipment since."
Freyja brought the Phoenix Hawk up to a run, aiming towards the nav point that signaled the quarry. "How did you get the DiggerMech out?"
"We didn't."
There was an ever so slight hitch to the step of the P-Hawk as Freyja paused when the reality of the situation dawned on her. "So you never got the pilot out? We're basically digging out a grave today?"
"That's one way of looking at it. A lot of this is going to be precision work, delicate movement, that sort of thing. You need some time to practice or get up to speed?"
She smiled. Stomping on the foot pedals, she channeled raw power from the Mech's fusion reactor out of the jump jet ports on its back. She twisted in mid air, hovered level for a moment, then spun back to her previous course and feathered the jets to a soft landing, cushioned by a delicate flex of the Mech's knees.
"Point taken."
They made their way to the quarry, and slowly down inside. The machinery all stood silent as Ned guided her through the narrow confines and obstructions, until they came upon the site of the accident that had taken place and caused the whole operation to grind to a halt. She could see the dead form of the industrial mech, pinned to a wall with a huge beam piercing it's centrally located cockpit. As she crouched the Phoenix Hawk down, they could even make out the form of the corpse of the poor soul who had the misfortune of piloting the industrial Mech on it's final run.
"It doesn't look like the damage is too severe. Mostly that arm just broke free. If we can pry it loose and roughly back into position, I can get it repaired and things going again."
Though it took some work and patience, she managed to work the beam free without causing too much collateral damage. The rest of the day consisted of simple maneuvers, assisting the repair crews with heavy work, before finally the equipment was ready to start again. At Ned's command, the switch was thrown, and the machinery once more began it's work, tearing ore and chemicals from the ground and rock surrounding it. They made their way back to the estate and the mech bay, and entered the house still dressed in their Mechwarrior togs.
When they reached the foyer, Clarissa was waiting, dressed immaculately, and gave Ned a kiss on the cheek. "A success, I take it?"
Ned nodded the affirmative. "It was. Thank you, Freyja." He gestured to the other two people in the room. "These are my children. My daughter, Madeline, and my son, Peter." Madeline was a spitting image of her mother, sharing her auburn hair and fair features. She smiled almost questioningly at Freyja as their eyes met. Peter shared his fathers amber hair, but had his mother's gentle gray eyes, which quickly darted away from Freyja's gaze as the somewhat lanky boy blushed at the sight of Freyja clad only in her leggings and top. "Children, this is Freyja McCarron, she'll be staying with us as our new Mechwarrior. Freyja, you'll join us for dinner, I hope?"
Back in the house, the sense of empowerment that she had felt earlier at the helm of the Phoenix Hawk faded slightly, and she gazed deferentially to the floor as she responded. "Of course, my lord."
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