Lummatii
Lothian League
Marian Hegemony
The Periphery
3 September, 3149
"Thank you for joining us this evening, Freyja." While she still found herself rather uncomfortable with her current situation, Freyja couldn't deny that Clarissa Bakker had gone to great lengths to make her feel at ease. In the time that she had served the Bakkers, she had come to see the qualities that must have made the lady of the house a good medic in her days in the military. She had a warm and welcoming quality not only to her words, but in her eyes, that helped calm anxiety in many people.
"Of course, it is always my pleasure, my Lady," Freyja replied as the cover was removed from the platter that held the steaming bird that would serve as the evening's main dish. At first she had been nervous dining with the family, but as time had passed and the invitations grew more frequent, she had come to almost enjoy them.
"Today marks six months since you came to us, Miss Freyja. I hope after that passage of time, that you find life here perhaps not altogether as grim as you may have feared back then." Ned Bakker's tone was cordial, but far less reassuring than his wife's. He was kind enough, but she found sometimes that he had a distant quality to him that did not foster the same kind of trust as Freyja was only just starting to build with Clarissa.
"Yes, my Lord. And I am grateful for that," she said as she cast her gaze slightly downward. Where she had no problem meeting the warm, grey eyes of Mrs. Bakker, she still found her tone and manner to be overtly deferential around Ned.
The dining room was a large one, but the size of the table was always adjusted to the number of guests. Careful arrangement of the furniture kept a warm and close feel to the room when the size of the dinner party was small, as it was tonight, though it could easily be moved and expanded to seat many more guests. Ned sat at the head of the rectangular table, and his wife at the opposite end. Ned was dressed in a suit, as he always seemed to be, this one of a gray fabric that seemed to catch the light of the candles illuminating the room rather remarkably. Clarissa wore a dress, as she often did, of a deep blue color that contrasted vividly with her pale complexion, but paired almost exactly with the blue gemstone that was the centerpiece of the choker style necklace she wore.
The children were seated on opposite sides of the table, the son, Peter, at his mother's right hand and their daughter, Madeline, at her left. Madeline wore a dress not dissimilar to her mother's, although of a far lesser quality fabric and with a far more conservative and practical bodice. Peter wore an almost military style shirt, of a gray that matched closely his father's suit.
For her part, Freyja always felt under dressed for these dinners, making due with the limited wardrobe she had brought with her. She wore snug fitting black trousers, tucked into her best knee-length boots and a rather simple white cotton blouse. She had, at least, taken the time to meticulously braid her golden blonde hair.
The meal progressed, and Freyja was careful not to eat too quickly. One of the first things she had noticed about her time in servitude was the degradation of her manners when it came to eating. She normally ate alone, and quite quickly, simple meals prepared by the house staff, and at her first few evenings dining with the Bakkers she had noticed that she ate rather quickly. Since then she had made a point to slow down, returning to the manners in which she had been raised.
The main course had concluded and the kitchen staff had brought out glasses for some kind of local wine. As the last of their glasses had been poured, and just as Freyja reached out and touched her glass, Ned Bakker spoke up, and she froze.
"I'm curious, Miss Freyja, when were you planning on telling me that you have been instructing my son in BattleMech piloting?" His gaze fixed on her like a TAG laser.
Her eyes darted across the table to Peter, who looked practically mortified, before she brought her gaze to settle on Ned's hand, unwilling to meet his eyes. After several seconds of silence, she found her voice, if somewhat weakly. "I..my apologies, My Lord. I..."
As she searched for words, Ned cut her off, though not forcefully, "You didn't expect that I would find out, am I right?" When all she managed was a nod, he continued, as her heart pounded in her chest. "Young lady, when things go on around here that I don't know about, that's when you should be worried. So, tell me, did Peter put you up to this?"
She deliberately fought the urge to glance across at the boy again. "No sir. It was entirely my idea. Master Peter had made mention of the fact that he plans to enlist in the Marian military come next year, and I saw the reverence with which he treated your Mech, and so I thought he might like to get a feel for Mech piloting before he left. I swear, my lord, I meant no harm, I sought only to give him a leg up in his studies. Your displeasure should be focused on me." She lifted her eyes for a moment to meet Lord Bakker's, before lowering them again.
There was silence for a moment. Peter retained his look of terror. Madeline's eyes darted between her brother and her father. And Clarissa remained stoic, almost unreadable as she glanced slowly at her son, at Freyja, then at her husband.
Ned Bakker let out a sigh. "I am not upset with your training of my son. What upsets me is the fact that you made a decision regarding my son without consulting me, his father."
Freyja swallowed hard, and wasn't entirely sure why she did what came next. "Begging your lordship's pardon, but is not Master Peter sixteen years old, and his own man in the eyes of the law of these lands?"
She was focused too hard on keeping herself from trembling as her heart beat nearly out of her chest to notice the tiny smile that formed in the corners of Mrs. Bakker's mouth, even as Ned spoke. "Girl, do you presume to tell me my own family business? Peter may be a man in the eyes of the law but in my house, it is my judgement that counts. And he has a lot of growing to do before he becomes a man, in many ways."
"Then why not let him?" She blurted the words out without thought, and too quickly realized she should not have uttered them.
Ned grunted, though it was so lighthearted as to almost be a chuckle. "Well girl, I'll give you this, you're settling in as a member of the household alright."
She searched for the words to recover. "My lord, I'm sorry, I've spoken out of turn, I should think-"
He held up his hand as he stopped her. "Yes, you should probably think before you speak. But, you should also let me finish. I'll ask that as part of your duties, you continue giving my son whatever training and advice as you think you can. It's not the choice I'd have made on my own, but perhaps there's some wisdom in it. And more to the point, I can see that your motives in doing it are sound, or you'd have not risked speaking so rashly. A toast then, to Peter's continued training, may he not land my Mech face first in the mud."
As each of them recovered from their shock, they drank to the toast, before an awkward silence fell over the room. Ned broke the silence once again. "Also, given that, I see my inclination was right about tomorrow. In addition to this being the six month mark of you joining us, it's also, rather unfortunately, the time that I must go and pay the estate's tax to the Lord Governor. I'd like for you to accompany Peter and I when we go to pay it tomorrow."
Freyja looked confused. "I'm afraid I don't understand entirely."
Ned took another drink of the dark wine. "It's simple enough. Just as I have tenants that pay me rent on my lands, I also have to pay a tax to the Lord Governor for this province. The feudal system has stood up quite well out here in the Periphery, even if it's been twisted and bloated back in the Inner Sphere. Most of the tax is paid in hard coin, but some of it will be in goods, and I'll have to deliver it personally, to pay my respects and allegiance to his lordship. Peter, as you so pointedly noted, has reached his majority, and so he'll have to go along and register with the Lord Governor's Warden for service should the need arise."
It all seemed reasonable enough. The system had been fairly invisible to Freyja growing up in the military nobility. But for these people, it was present in almost everyday life, as she was now learning having been knocked considerable down the ladder of social status.
"I see. But why am I to come along, sir?" That part she hadn't quite worked out yet in her head.
"For one, you've earned a degree of latitude. You've not given me cause to question your service, you've not tried to undermine me estate or try to escape. I feel like you're coming to accept your place here. So it seems only fair that you should get to see a little more of this planet than just the estate here and the mines."
In that he was wrong. Or at least partially so. She didn't accept her place as a slave, she couldn't. There was no way she could envision her life that way. But at the same time, he was partially correct insofar as she was beginning to feel as though she were a part of the family. Stockholm Syndrome, she told herself.
"And secondly, traveling to Abercrombie, the provincial capital can be a bit rough, it's always good to have a few people along with you to watch your back. When we go tomorrow, it will be your job to watch Peter's back."
Friday, December 21, 2018
Forging Freyja - Chapter 6.2
Lummatii
Lothian League
Marian Hegemony
The Periphery
12 May, 3149
Freyja found herself in the cavernous Mech garage at the back of the estate. Truthfully, she had completed most of the maintenance routines on the Phoenix Hawk earlier in the week, but there was always plenty of work that she could do and checks that could be performed. The Hawk probably should have been mothballed for the time that it was inactive, and she was still finding the odd quirk here or there that would cause minor issues in the field. The weapons, of course, were offline and the targeting and tracking system was locked down, so those could be in any state of disrepair for all she knew. Perhaps one day she would earn enough trust to have them reactivated and tested.
"I hope I'm not disturbing you, Miss Freyja."
She turned to face her visitor, setting the data pad on the nearby workbench. "Interrupting the reading of actuator performance data readouts can't ever really be considered a disturbance, master Peter. I was wondering how long it was going to take you to sneak off and make your way down here to the bay."
He smiled sheepishly. "It wasn't hard, father is pretty tied up with logistics this time of the year. Paperwork now is paperwork saved later on, or so he always tells me."
She nodded in the direction of the readout she had been studying. "There's always more paperwork later. Always. But that can wait. I've got to take her out to get some data on the jump jets and the heat management system. Neither of them gets taxed very much with the work we use it for. Tag along?"
"Couldn't keep me away."
She pulled off her overshirt and tossed it on top of the workbench, then looked at Peter. "You're going to boil alive in that. I think there's some old astech shorts laying around in one of the lockers. There's a spare cooling vest up in the cockpit. I'll get her warmed up, climb on up when you're ready."
As he scurried off to change, she climbed up to the cockpit and began the initialization sequence. She had the fusion reactor up and running and was halfway through the pre-op checklist when a lanky form climbed through the access hatch and moved up beside her.
"Sorry it took so long. They don't fit too well, but I wasn't going to run back into the house to get something else." His eagerness was almost infectious, reminding her of when she'd first learned to pilot a Mech years ago.
She glanced at the ill-fitting shorts as he struggled into the auxiliary cooling vest and laughed softly. "Don't worry, Mech cockpits aren't exactly the place for modesty." As she spoke, he stood abruptly and hit his head on the cockpit wall. "Or moving around. Get strapped in, and make sure your cooling vest is plugged into the heat sinking system. I don't want you passing out on me or anything."
"Don't worry about me. I've done this a thousand times in my head." She could feel the boy practically jumping out of the seat with anticipation.
She throttled the Mech forward, and turned her head in his direction once they were clear of the bay doors. "A million times in your head won't prepare you for the first time you do it for real. The heat inside the cockpit is going to get pretty bad at times here, I'm testing the cooling system, so I'm going to take some of the heat sinks off-line in sequence to isolate them, get some readings on their efficiency. They haven't been really taxed in years, what with the weapons offline. Let me know if you're feeling sick or anything, I can dial it back a bit. Trust me, neither of us wants you being sick while we're cooped up in this tight space."
She put the Mech through it's paces, at each interval making sure that the DI Computer was recording and tagging the results. She took certain of the heat sinks offline in a pre-planned pattern, then taxed the cooling system by activating the jump jets to drive the heat levels up. By the time, she had completed all the tests, it was nearing dark.
"We're about five klicks out from the estate now, and I'm done running the pattern I had programmed in. We should be heading back now." She throttled the Phoenix Hawk down and locked it into a standing position, then flipped a few switches and set the mech into a standby mode. She pulled off her neurohelmet and turned to face her passenger. "You want to take her back?"
The color momentarily drained from the boy's face, and his eyes widened. "You....you mean?"
She smiled broadly. "Yes, I mean you pilot her back to the barn. It's a straight run, no tricky terrain. I mean, if you'd rather I-" He was out of his seat before she could finish her sentence. "Alright, slow and easy is the name of the game here. There's nothing complicated, but I don't want to have to explain fall damage to your father when we get back, you understand?"
"Not a scratch, I promise!"
They began switching seats, and she knelt beside the command couch. "Alright, get the neurohelmet on and comfortable. Comfort is the key. I've got a generic test pattern programmed into the DI com that shouldn't give you too much trouble, but it's going to be an odd sensation, don't try to do anything until I tell you."
"I get it. You're the boss. I just want to get it moving. I mean, I didn't expect I was going to be piloting tonight or anything." She could tell that his nerves were beginning to kick in, ever so slightly pushing back the initial wave of enthusiasm and replacing it with apprehension.
She put her hand on his shoulder. "Look, you'll do fine. Understand your limits, but enjoy it. Think of it like your first time having sex, it's going to be awkward, you'll probably make mistakes, but it will be a feeling like no other and you'll remember it for the rest of your life. Understand?"
"Right. Just like that".
She hid her smile as she realized from his awkward gulp and flushing cheeks that perhaps she shouldn't have used that particular analogy. "Alright, I'm going to cut in the neuro-feedback system. You'll probably feel a slight wave of dizziness, maybe hear a buzzing or a ringing at first, but it will die down. The Mech is still locked in standby, so you don't have to worry about keeping her upright, just focus on getting accustomed to the feel of the feedback."
She flipped the switch and watched as a smile slowly grew on the boys face. "Wow, it's....it's like...intense but not. I know that sounds weird, it's just..."
"It's not, just soak it in. Let it become a part of you, wrap around you. It will be second nature before you know it. For now, it's baby steps. Now, I want you to flip the lock controls. It's that switch right there. Once you throw it, the myomer fibers and actuators will take over, we won't be locked in place anymore, we'll be standing. When you're ready."
She braced herself slightly. In reality, she knew it was almost impossible for the Mech to fall over, but she still had the ever so slightest of fears. She was taking a process normally done slowly, over time, preferably in a simulator first and then in a controlled environment, and simply doing it all on the fly. She watched as he flipped the toggle, and felt the slight shudder of the Mech springing to life.
"There, good. You've got it. Now, I presume you know all the basic controls of this beast? Throttle, direction, torso rotation?"
He nodded with a grin. "Like the back of my hand."
"Alright then. Slow and steady, take us back to the barn, master Peter."
Though it took slightly longer than normal, they found themselves back in the Mech bay without incident just as the sun outside was setting. They both stood, covered in sweat, looking up at the towering Phoenix Hawk. Freyja felt a sense of accomplishment, if also a little unease at what she'd just done. She knew also how Peter must be feeling at the moment, a sixteen year old who's Mech piloting dreams had just taken their first tangible step towards reality.
"I've got a few things to take care of here before I head back inside. I think you should be running along too, hopefully your absence hasn't been noticed." She noticed he was already standing just a bit taller.
"Thank you, Miss Freyja. I had a great time. I owe you one." She took note of him settling back slightly into his uneasiness, but took heart that it was ever so slightly less than it had been before.
"It was my pleasure, Master Peter. I hope it was everything that you imagined it would be"
Lothian League
Marian Hegemony
The Periphery
12 May, 3149
Freyja found herself in the cavernous Mech garage at the back of the estate. Truthfully, she had completed most of the maintenance routines on the Phoenix Hawk earlier in the week, but there was always plenty of work that she could do and checks that could be performed. The Hawk probably should have been mothballed for the time that it was inactive, and she was still finding the odd quirk here or there that would cause minor issues in the field. The weapons, of course, were offline and the targeting and tracking system was locked down, so those could be in any state of disrepair for all she knew. Perhaps one day she would earn enough trust to have them reactivated and tested.
"I hope I'm not disturbing you, Miss Freyja."
She turned to face her visitor, setting the data pad on the nearby workbench. "Interrupting the reading of actuator performance data readouts can't ever really be considered a disturbance, master Peter. I was wondering how long it was going to take you to sneak off and make your way down here to the bay."
He smiled sheepishly. "It wasn't hard, father is pretty tied up with logistics this time of the year. Paperwork now is paperwork saved later on, or so he always tells me."
She nodded in the direction of the readout she had been studying. "There's always more paperwork later. Always. But that can wait. I've got to take her out to get some data on the jump jets and the heat management system. Neither of them gets taxed very much with the work we use it for. Tag along?"
"Couldn't keep me away."
She pulled off her overshirt and tossed it on top of the workbench, then looked at Peter. "You're going to boil alive in that. I think there's some old astech shorts laying around in one of the lockers. There's a spare cooling vest up in the cockpit. I'll get her warmed up, climb on up when you're ready."
As he scurried off to change, she climbed up to the cockpit and began the initialization sequence. She had the fusion reactor up and running and was halfway through the pre-op checklist when a lanky form climbed through the access hatch and moved up beside her.
"Sorry it took so long. They don't fit too well, but I wasn't going to run back into the house to get something else." His eagerness was almost infectious, reminding her of when she'd first learned to pilot a Mech years ago.
She glanced at the ill-fitting shorts as he struggled into the auxiliary cooling vest and laughed softly. "Don't worry, Mech cockpits aren't exactly the place for modesty." As she spoke, he stood abruptly and hit his head on the cockpit wall. "Or moving around. Get strapped in, and make sure your cooling vest is plugged into the heat sinking system. I don't want you passing out on me or anything."
"Don't worry about me. I've done this a thousand times in my head." She could feel the boy practically jumping out of the seat with anticipation.
She throttled the Mech forward, and turned her head in his direction once they were clear of the bay doors. "A million times in your head won't prepare you for the first time you do it for real. The heat inside the cockpit is going to get pretty bad at times here, I'm testing the cooling system, so I'm going to take some of the heat sinks off-line in sequence to isolate them, get some readings on their efficiency. They haven't been really taxed in years, what with the weapons offline. Let me know if you're feeling sick or anything, I can dial it back a bit. Trust me, neither of us wants you being sick while we're cooped up in this tight space."
She put the Mech through it's paces, at each interval making sure that the DI Computer was recording and tagging the results. She took certain of the heat sinks offline in a pre-planned pattern, then taxed the cooling system by activating the jump jets to drive the heat levels up. By the time, she had completed all the tests, it was nearing dark.
"We're about five klicks out from the estate now, and I'm done running the pattern I had programmed in. We should be heading back now." She throttled the Phoenix Hawk down and locked it into a standing position, then flipped a few switches and set the mech into a standby mode. She pulled off her neurohelmet and turned to face her passenger. "You want to take her back?"
The color momentarily drained from the boy's face, and his eyes widened. "You....you mean?"
She smiled broadly. "Yes, I mean you pilot her back to the barn. It's a straight run, no tricky terrain. I mean, if you'd rather I-" He was out of his seat before she could finish her sentence. "Alright, slow and easy is the name of the game here. There's nothing complicated, but I don't want to have to explain fall damage to your father when we get back, you understand?"
"Not a scratch, I promise!"
They began switching seats, and she knelt beside the command couch. "Alright, get the neurohelmet on and comfortable. Comfort is the key. I've got a generic test pattern programmed into the DI com that shouldn't give you too much trouble, but it's going to be an odd sensation, don't try to do anything until I tell you."
"I get it. You're the boss. I just want to get it moving. I mean, I didn't expect I was going to be piloting tonight or anything." She could tell that his nerves were beginning to kick in, ever so slightly pushing back the initial wave of enthusiasm and replacing it with apprehension.
She put her hand on his shoulder. "Look, you'll do fine. Understand your limits, but enjoy it. Think of it like your first time having sex, it's going to be awkward, you'll probably make mistakes, but it will be a feeling like no other and you'll remember it for the rest of your life. Understand?"
"Right. Just like that".
She hid her smile as she realized from his awkward gulp and flushing cheeks that perhaps she shouldn't have used that particular analogy. "Alright, I'm going to cut in the neuro-feedback system. You'll probably feel a slight wave of dizziness, maybe hear a buzzing or a ringing at first, but it will die down. The Mech is still locked in standby, so you don't have to worry about keeping her upright, just focus on getting accustomed to the feel of the feedback."
She flipped the switch and watched as a smile slowly grew on the boys face. "Wow, it's....it's like...intense but not. I know that sounds weird, it's just..."
"It's not, just soak it in. Let it become a part of you, wrap around you. It will be second nature before you know it. For now, it's baby steps. Now, I want you to flip the lock controls. It's that switch right there. Once you throw it, the myomer fibers and actuators will take over, we won't be locked in place anymore, we'll be standing. When you're ready."
She braced herself slightly. In reality, she knew it was almost impossible for the Mech to fall over, but she still had the ever so slightest of fears. She was taking a process normally done slowly, over time, preferably in a simulator first and then in a controlled environment, and simply doing it all on the fly. She watched as he flipped the toggle, and felt the slight shudder of the Mech springing to life.
"There, good. You've got it. Now, I presume you know all the basic controls of this beast? Throttle, direction, torso rotation?"
He nodded with a grin. "Like the back of my hand."
"Alright then. Slow and steady, take us back to the barn, master Peter."
Though it took slightly longer than normal, they found themselves back in the Mech bay without incident just as the sun outside was setting. They both stood, covered in sweat, looking up at the towering Phoenix Hawk. Freyja felt a sense of accomplishment, if also a little unease at what she'd just done. She knew also how Peter must be feeling at the moment, a sixteen year old who's Mech piloting dreams had just taken their first tangible step towards reality.
"I've got a few things to take care of here before I head back inside. I think you should be running along too, hopefully your absence hasn't been noticed." She noticed he was already standing just a bit taller.
"Thank you, Miss Freyja. I had a great time. I owe you one." She took note of him settling back slightly into his uneasiness, but took heart that it was ever so slightly less than it had been before.
"It was my pleasure, Master Peter. I hope it was everything that you imagined it would be"
Forging Freyja - Chapter 6.1
Lummatii
Lothian League
Marian Hegemony
The Periphery
12 May, 3149
Sweat dripped from her brow as Freyja sat on a cool stone at the foot of the giant war machine that stood parked under the shadow of a jutting ledge, out of the baking heat of the sun pounding down from overhead. The Phoenix Hawk still radiated heat, and the occasional pops and cracks of cooling metal broke relative silence that hovered over the area. She had stripped off her cooling vest and let her hair down, and was letting the gentle breeze cool her down as it passed over her sweat drenched body.
She had just finished the bottle of sports drink that claimed to be citrus flavored, and was pondering the results of a hypothetical taste test between it and the coolant running through the double strength heat sinks of the Mech that stood beside her when movement caught her eye. An ever so slight cloud of dust was rising, marring the natural beauty of the plains in front of her. After several seconds, she could make out a small four-wheeled vehicle, clearly making it's way towards her.
She brushed off the thought of trouble. If it was trouble, she wasn't armed, but could easily scurry back up into the safety of the Phoenix Hawk's cockpit. It was probably work. Or supplies for the mine. As the quad bike pulled up and it's passenger dismounted and removed his helmet, she discovered it was neither. The slightly lanky figure ran his hand through his amber hair.
"Master Peter, you must be a glutton for punishment, out in this heat," she said without standing.
The boy approached, carrying a cooler of some kind. "The heat isn't so bad when you're moving, And it's only like this maybe one month of the year, Wait until winter hits." he said, squinting to adjust to the sunlight. "I finished with my studies for the day, so my mom had me run some food out here, figured you might like a break from the usual fare. Besides, you're a Mechwarrior, I thought you'd be used to the heat."
She smiled slightly. "Riding a fusion reactor is more of a dry heat, and it tends to cook you from the feet up, rather than that sun out there. I'll take the food, though." She unwrapped the sandwich from the cooler and took a bite, noticing the boy glancing up at the motionless Phoenix Hawk. "You ever take her out for a spin?"
He shook his head. "I've been in the cockpit loads of times, usually when my dad would put it though it's startup sequence, to keep it loose and all. But I've never piloted it. Never had a trainer, most of the folks we've had around here were just IndustrialMech pilots and such." He paused for a moment, seemingly unsure of himself. "Next year though I plan on signing up with the Marian Hegemony Armed Forces. I'll get proper training then. Maybe get a chance to take this thing out for some real action."
Freyja chuckled softly. "One thing at a time, master Peter."
He kicked at a stone by his feet. "How long have you piloted a Mech?"
She took a few more bites of her sandwich before answering. "Since I was about your sister's age. Once I got the feel for it, I found all the time I could to practice, or ride simulators. It's like anything else, do it enough, you'll get good at it."
"Have you ever been in a battle?" he asked almost eagerly, then seemed to catch himself. "I mean....I don't mean to pry. I've no idea how you came to be out here with us or anything, I just...well...I'm sorry."
She sighed softly. "It's alright. I didn't get captured in battle, if that's what you're wondering. I was just riding a transport that got hijacked by pirates. But yes, I saw action once, I was probably about your age and traveling with my mother's unit, we got hit hard up by Davion raiders and they needed every warm body they could get. It's not as glorious as you'd think or anything though, I mostly hung back, took pot shots, and tried to stay out of the way. I was terrified, truth be told." She paused. "And I don't know why I'm telling you this." She used finishing off the sandwich as an excuse to stop her storytelling.
"I could help you with the rest of today's work, you could maybe show me some piloting stuff, like basics." he asked with an expectant look in his eye.
She stood up and pulled her hair back into a ponytail. "I don't think that's a good idea. Your father would have my head if I took you around those mines, BattleMech or not, master Peter."
He cocked his head slightly. "I could order you to do it. You'd have to obey me, you know."
She frowned and set her hands on her hips. "Yes, you could, master Peter. Of course, I'd have to confirm it with your father first, but hey, I'll climb up and get him on the radio."
Having had his bluff called, Peter looked down dejectedly. "No, it's alright. You don't have to bother him. I should be getting back anyway." He started to walk back towards the quad bike.
What she did next surprised even her. "Master Peter," she waited until he stopped and turned, "I've got to be back in time for dinner, your mother's request. But after that, I'll have to be taking the Hawk out for some maintenance runs out of the hanger. I might need some help, if you know of anyone who could lend an hour or two."
He could barely contain his smile. "I think I might know someone."
Lothian League
Marian Hegemony
The Periphery
12 May, 3149
Sweat dripped from her brow as Freyja sat on a cool stone at the foot of the giant war machine that stood parked under the shadow of a jutting ledge, out of the baking heat of the sun pounding down from overhead. The Phoenix Hawk still radiated heat, and the occasional pops and cracks of cooling metal broke relative silence that hovered over the area. She had stripped off her cooling vest and let her hair down, and was letting the gentle breeze cool her down as it passed over her sweat drenched body.
She had just finished the bottle of sports drink that claimed to be citrus flavored, and was pondering the results of a hypothetical taste test between it and the coolant running through the double strength heat sinks of the Mech that stood beside her when movement caught her eye. An ever so slight cloud of dust was rising, marring the natural beauty of the plains in front of her. After several seconds, she could make out a small four-wheeled vehicle, clearly making it's way towards her.
She brushed off the thought of trouble. If it was trouble, she wasn't armed, but could easily scurry back up into the safety of the Phoenix Hawk's cockpit. It was probably work. Or supplies for the mine. As the quad bike pulled up and it's passenger dismounted and removed his helmet, she discovered it was neither. The slightly lanky figure ran his hand through his amber hair.
"Master Peter, you must be a glutton for punishment, out in this heat," she said without standing.
The boy approached, carrying a cooler of some kind. "The heat isn't so bad when you're moving, And it's only like this maybe one month of the year, Wait until winter hits." he said, squinting to adjust to the sunlight. "I finished with my studies for the day, so my mom had me run some food out here, figured you might like a break from the usual fare. Besides, you're a Mechwarrior, I thought you'd be used to the heat."
She smiled slightly. "Riding a fusion reactor is more of a dry heat, and it tends to cook you from the feet up, rather than that sun out there. I'll take the food, though." She unwrapped the sandwich from the cooler and took a bite, noticing the boy glancing up at the motionless Phoenix Hawk. "You ever take her out for a spin?"
He shook his head. "I've been in the cockpit loads of times, usually when my dad would put it though it's startup sequence, to keep it loose and all. But I've never piloted it. Never had a trainer, most of the folks we've had around here were just IndustrialMech pilots and such." He paused for a moment, seemingly unsure of himself. "Next year though I plan on signing up with the Marian Hegemony Armed Forces. I'll get proper training then. Maybe get a chance to take this thing out for some real action."
Freyja chuckled softly. "One thing at a time, master Peter."
He kicked at a stone by his feet. "How long have you piloted a Mech?"
She took a few more bites of her sandwich before answering. "Since I was about your sister's age. Once I got the feel for it, I found all the time I could to practice, or ride simulators. It's like anything else, do it enough, you'll get good at it."
"Have you ever been in a battle?" he asked almost eagerly, then seemed to catch himself. "I mean....I don't mean to pry. I've no idea how you came to be out here with us or anything, I just...well...I'm sorry."
She sighed softly. "It's alright. I didn't get captured in battle, if that's what you're wondering. I was just riding a transport that got hijacked by pirates. But yes, I saw action once, I was probably about your age and traveling with my mother's unit, we got hit hard up by Davion raiders and they needed every warm body they could get. It's not as glorious as you'd think or anything though, I mostly hung back, took pot shots, and tried to stay out of the way. I was terrified, truth be told." She paused. "And I don't know why I'm telling you this." She used finishing off the sandwich as an excuse to stop her storytelling.
"I could help you with the rest of today's work, you could maybe show me some piloting stuff, like basics." he asked with an expectant look in his eye.
She stood up and pulled her hair back into a ponytail. "I don't think that's a good idea. Your father would have my head if I took you around those mines, BattleMech or not, master Peter."
He cocked his head slightly. "I could order you to do it. You'd have to obey me, you know."
She frowned and set her hands on her hips. "Yes, you could, master Peter. Of course, I'd have to confirm it with your father first, but hey, I'll climb up and get him on the radio."
Having had his bluff called, Peter looked down dejectedly. "No, it's alright. You don't have to bother him. I should be getting back anyway." He started to walk back towards the quad bike.
What she did next surprised even her. "Master Peter," she waited until he stopped and turned, "I've got to be back in time for dinner, your mother's request. But after that, I'll have to be taking the Hawk out for some maintenance runs out of the hanger. I might need some help, if you know of anyone who could lend an hour or two."
He could barely contain his smile. "I think I might know someone."
Sunday, December 16, 2018
Forging Freyja - Chapter 5
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."
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."
Forging Freyja - Chapter 4
Lummatii
Lothian League
Marian Hegemony
The Periphery
3 March, 3149
Freyja didn't bother fighting the tussling as the she sat in the back of the large, six wheeled crawler that rumbled over the uneven surface of whatever god forsaken rock she found herself on. She let the now dreary pacing of her thoughts synchronize with the thud of BattleMech steps that forged on ahead of the vehicle convoy. Whatever fragile hope had sprung up with the realization brought on by the steady gravity of a burn towards this planet had long since died off again, and the numbness of the past days, weeks, months, settled in again. Planetfall made no difference. She was just as lost as she had been since the hijacking. Nothing had changed.
The vehicle didn't even oblige her with a window to peer out at the passing terrain. For all she knew, they could be driving along through a desert, a frozen tundra, or a barren rock. Part of her told her that it didn't matter. Wherever she was going, she had no control over her fate, whether she could see it passing or not.
The ride so numbed her mind that she she did not at first notice when the steady thump of BattleMech feet slowed, then stopped, just as the vehicle that carried her slowed and stopped. Her reverie was broken only by the harsh stabbing of light as the rear doors of the truck swung open.
"This is your stop. Get out." the voice was unremarkable, as was the face of the man who glared at her as she gingerly stood up and climbed out of the back of the truck as steadily as she could with her hands bound by steel manacles. She squinted against the harshness of the sunlight and steadied herself for a moment before an iron grip took her by the arm and urged her forward.
The owner of that grip had a face she would never forget. The scraggly beard and worn lines of the seemingly expressionless face of Bart Carter, the two-bit pirate that had derailed her carefully and naively laid plans for self discovery and turned them into the nightmare she was currently living. The man who had put a laser bolt through the temple of the man sent to escort her to her mercenary career.
She tried to take some measure of her surroundings. It was definitely a habitable world, they were in the inner courtyard of some kind of estate. The outer edifices were of stone, and somehow managed to look neither old or new. It was not traditional Marian architecture, at least not to her eye, but it also lacked the historical flair that was a signature of Castle McCarron. Nor was it anywhere near the size of her ancestral home.
They entered though the front great doors, and Carter, seemingly aware of the layout, led her up a set of curved stairs. Each step seemed ponderous as she scuffed along wearing the boots her captors had given her, which ran far too large. Finally, they entered room which seemed amazingly cozy, an office or study of some sorts, the lighting fairly dim so as the shadows cast by the large fireplace danced over the walls and ceiling.
To the left of the fireplace stood a sizeable wooden desk, broad, and obviously painstakingly crafted to preserve the likeness of the great tree it had been carved from. In front of the desk there were two exquisitely carved chairs, and the floor covered with a huge rug made from the pelt of some animal that must have been massive for the size of the amber covering that now marked it's remains.
Seated behind the desk was a man of clear Rasalhaguian decent, middle aged by her guess, with a well groomed beard. He looked slightly surprised upon their entrance, but covered it quickly as he stood and ran a hand through his amber hair.
As they approached the desk, Carter grabbed her firmly by the hair and forced her to her knees. Her eyes darted around the room, chasing the crackling shadows at first, noticing a carved figurine here, some kind of plant there, before finally her gaze settled on the floor.
"Told you I'd come through for you Ned. Just what you asked for," Bart said in a dismissive way. Freyja could feel the other man's eyes on her, but she refused to meet his gaze.
"She's practically a child, Carter." The man's voice surprised her in that it was neither threatening nor sinister as she had expected. Instead it was neutral, almost with a turn toward softness.
Bart Carter scoffed, "Beggars can't be choosers, Ned. Besides, you didn't give any age requirements. You ought to be damn grateful I came through this quick. Not like there's a market or something where I could go to get what you needed. Just kinda stumbled into this one raiding some poor corporate charter run. Sold off most of 'em as plain old labor. No idea why she was holed up with them, don't care either. You got the coin?"
The other man seemed somehow deferential towards Carter, in spite of the fact that obviously this was the lord of the estate, or whatever it was. "I'm not meaning to find fault, Mr Carter. I'm grateful for your efforts on my behalf," He tossed a small bag towards Bart, which from the jingling sounds contained some kind of hard currency. "It's all there, your regular quarterly tribute plus the price for her. And of course, you have my hospitality at your disposal if you should so choose."
Carter smiled. "Always a pleasure, Lord Bakker. I'll take you up on that, and leave you to break in your new prize." And with that, the brigand left, closing the door behind him. Freyja still forced her gaze downward. The few seconds of silence felt like an eternity. Kidnapped, she had just been sold as part of some casual transaction, to whom the likes of which, she still had no idea or measure.
"I'm Edward Bakker. This is my house, my lands, my business. I trust you are well?"
Her mind raced a light year a minute. How could she possibly answer that question? What was she to say?
"You speak standard English, yes?" There was no harshness in his tone. Nothing made sense. "You're bought and paid for, you might as well speak, child. Or at the very least look up."
She steeled herself, unsure of how to proceed, cognizant of the fact that her fate likely rested on what she said and did now. "Apologies, Lord Bakker. I am not altogether well, no, having been kidnapped, my companion shot, and now finding myself sold into some sort of servitude. And now I find myself here at your apparent mercy."
Ned Bakker sighed. "You can start by getting off your knees, girl. Be seated." He waited for her to rise and take a chair before taking his own seat behind the desk. "Your accent, not from this part of space. You're no periphery scoundrel. Republic, I'd wager?"
Freyja fought to control her breathing. "No, sir. I was born on Altorra, in the Capellan Confederation.
"You don't sound Capellan to me."
"No, sir. I was raised by my mother and my aunt, we traveled a lot." She gripped one hand in the other to keep from trembling.
"And how did you end up here, in the Periphery? Bart Carter might be a mean old pirate, but I know damn well he didn't sail halfway across the 'Sphere just to run into you."
She paused for a time before answering. "I suppose I was running away. I had expectations, assurances, I had things all laid out for me. But I ran away from all of that. I thought I was going to find myself or forge my own way somehow. And now....now I'm just here."
Bakker stood and walked over small side table and picked up two glasses and a bottle. He poured a dark amber liquid into each glass, and handed one to Freyja. "Drink. We distill the stuff right here, and you'll find finer potions throughout the Sphere no doubt, but in my years on this planet I've found it's kick is suited perfectly to it's home."
She took a small sip of what she could discern was some potent form of whiskey, and almost immediately regretted it as the alcohol vapors tickled at the back of her throat. "You will forgive my ignorance, but I don't even know what planet this is."
Ned Bakker took his seat again and drank a strong swig of the whiskey. "You find yourself, girl, on the planet Lummatii, in the Lothian League...well, how much of it is the Lothian League and how much is the Marian Hegemony, who's to say. And on my estate, which I've run for nearly twenty years now. My lands are a mix of agriculture, but the big money is in the old mine, about ten kilometers away. That's where I make most of my money, run my business, support my family. I've a number of tenants who rent my land, the feudal system works quite well out here. But you, I brought here because I need a Mech pilot."
There was no scale to measure the speed at which Freyja's mind was running wild at that moment. "All of this, just to get a MechWarrior? I don't understand."
"You're thinking like a Spheroid, my girl. Mechs are rare out here, and so too are Mechwarriors. There's hardly anywhere that trains them, and anyone that has a Mech is likely out selling his or her sword for some lord or other, or turning to plunder like your friend Bart Carter back there. The fees they would command, well, it wouldn't make much sense for my business. So, I went the only route I could, I bought one. You. I confess that I didn't think Bart Carter was going to snatch me up a girl, barely old enough to be out on her own. But as the man said, beggars can't be choosers."
Freyja swallowed hard. "I don't know how any of this works. I...I never....I don't know, my lord."
"The legalities of it? This is the Marian Hegemony. Slavery is legal. How Bart Carter came about you is his business. I bought you fair and square. You are my property and you will follow all of my orders. I'll not treat you harshly unless you give me cause. You needn't worry yourself over your honor, I didn't bring you here for anything like that. You'll live here in the main house with me and my family. You'll serve at my pleasure. I'll not hurt you in any way that I musn't, but know this: You belong to me and my family and if you do anything to bring harm on that family, I will punish you most severely. Do we have a measure of each other?"
Part of her wanted to run. Part of her wanted to just give up. But she had nowhere to run, and she could not give up. "Yes, my lord. We do."
"Good. My wife, Clarissa, will get you settled. We'll discuss particulars tomorrow if need be. And I beg your pardon, but in all this mess, Bart Carter never made mention of your name?
"Freyja McCarron, sir."
Mere moments later, she found herself in a fairly small room, a bed against one wall, a single window set deeply into the stone of the wall perpendicular to it. There was a meager amount of furniture, all of it of the same dark wood that most things she had seen so far seemed to be carved from. There was a small fireplace, which currently sat dark, and an open doorway off to the far corner. She shivered slightly as she felt a touch on her shoulder.
"At ease, child. I'm sorry for startling you." The speaker was a woman, probably in her forties, Freyja guessed, with rich auburn hair and gentle gray eyes. "I'm Clarissa Bakker, Ned's wife. I wanted to stop by and see that you got settled. I had the staff bring up the bag with your things that Mr. Carter brought along. It's not much, clothes and such. I'll have the maid check in on you after a time to see if there is anything you need. This is your room, we don't keep the fire going much during the spring and summer, but you'll need it come autumn and winter here, it can get quite cold."
Freyja said nothing, and stood relatively motionless, only her eyes moving to take in the surroundings of the room that was to be her new home, her new prison of sorts.
"I'll not pretend to understand how you feel right now. I can only promise that it will be ok. You'll not be harmed here, you'll be well treated. You were brought here only for one thing, because apparently you're a MechWarrior. Do that, and I can promise, I'll do all I can to make the adjustment easier on you. It's not a bad life at all here, and I'd hope that some day you come to feel you are a part of it of your own choosing."
She wished that she had some sort of words to reply with, but her mind stayed empty, numb. She just wanted to curl up into herself, withdraw into a shell and never come out. The older woman waited for a few minutes, saying nothing, before turning to leave. "The wash room is just through that doorway. The Lord and my room is at the far end of the hall, my two children's rooms on either side. When you're up to it, you'll dine with us. For now, I'm sure you'd like to be alone for a time. Don't hesitate to come downstairs if there's anything at all that you need. I suspect Ned will be wanting to get you out in the field tomorrow as early as can be, so rest up."
Freyja waited several minutes after she heard the click of the door shutting before she allowed herself to collapse on the bed in a sea of her own tears.
Lothian League
Marian Hegemony
The Periphery
3 March, 3149
Freyja didn't bother fighting the tussling as the she sat in the back of the large, six wheeled crawler that rumbled over the uneven surface of whatever god forsaken rock she found herself on. She let the now dreary pacing of her thoughts synchronize with the thud of BattleMech steps that forged on ahead of the vehicle convoy. Whatever fragile hope had sprung up with the realization brought on by the steady gravity of a burn towards this planet had long since died off again, and the numbness of the past days, weeks, months, settled in again. Planetfall made no difference. She was just as lost as she had been since the hijacking. Nothing had changed.
The vehicle didn't even oblige her with a window to peer out at the passing terrain. For all she knew, they could be driving along through a desert, a frozen tundra, or a barren rock. Part of her told her that it didn't matter. Wherever she was going, she had no control over her fate, whether she could see it passing or not.
The ride so numbed her mind that she she did not at first notice when the steady thump of BattleMech feet slowed, then stopped, just as the vehicle that carried her slowed and stopped. Her reverie was broken only by the harsh stabbing of light as the rear doors of the truck swung open.
"This is your stop. Get out." the voice was unremarkable, as was the face of the man who glared at her as she gingerly stood up and climbed out of the back of the truck as steadily as she could with her hands bound by steel manacles. She squinted against the harshness of the sunlight and steadied herself for a moment before an iron grip took her by the arm and urged her forward.
The owner of that grip had a face she would never forget. The scraggly beard and worn lines of the seemingly expressionless face of Bart Carter, the two-bit pirate that had derailed her carefully and naively laid plans for self discovery and turned them into the nightmare she was currently living. The man who had put a laser bolt through the temple of the man sent to escort her to her mercenary career.
She tried to take some measure of her surroundings. It was definitely a habitable world, they were in the inner courtyard of some kind of estate. The outer edifices were of stone, and somehow managed to look neither old or new. It was not traditional Marian architecture, at least not to her eye, but it also lacked the historical flair that was a signature of Castle McCarron. Nor was it anywhere near the size of her ancestral home.
They entered though the front great doors, and Carter, seemingly aware of the layout, led her up a set of curved stairs. Each step seemed ponderous as she scuffed along wearing the boots her captors had given her, which ran far too large. Finally, they entered room which seemed amazingly cozy, an office or study of some sorts, the lighting fairly dim so as the shadows cast by the large fireplace danced over the walls and ceiling.
To the left of the fireplace stood a sizeable wooden desk, broad, and obviously painstakingly crafted to preserve the likeness of the great tree it had been carved from. In front of the desk there were two exquisitely carved chairs, and the floor covered with a huge rug made from the pelt of some animal that must have been massive for the size of the amber covering that now marked it's remains.
Seated behind the desk was a man of clear Rasalhaguian decent, middle aged by her guess, with a well groomed beard. He looked slightly surprised upon their entrance, but covered it quickly as he stood and ran a hand through his amber hair.
As they approached the desk, Carter grabbed her firmly by the hair and forced her to her knees. Her eyes darted around the room, chasing the crackling shadows at first, noticing a carved figurine here, some kind of plant there, before finally her gaze settled on the floor.
"Told you I'd come through for you Ned. Just what you asked for," Bart said in a dismissive way. Freyja could feel the other man's eyes on her, but she refused to meet his gaze.
"She's practically a child, Carter." The man's voice surprised her in that it was neither threatening nor sinister as she had expected. Instead it was neutral, almost with a turn toward softness.
Bart Carter scoffed, "Beggars can't be choosers, Ned. Besides, you didn't give any age requirements. You ought to be damn grateful I came through this quick. Not like there's a market or something where I could go to get what you needed. Just kinda stumbled into this one raiding some poor corporate charter run. Sold off most of 'em as plain old labor. No idea why she was holed up with them, don't care either. You got the coin?"
The other man seemed somehow deferential towards Carter, in spite of the fact that obviously this was the lord of the estate, or whatever it was. "I'm not meaning to find fault, Mr Carter. I'm grateful for your efforts on my behalf," He tossed a small bag towards Bart, which from the jingling sounds contained some kind of hard currency. "It's all there, your regular quarterly tribute plus the price for her. And of course, you have my hospitality at your disposal if you should so choose."
Carter smiled. "Always a pleasure, Lord Bakker. I'll take you up on that, and leave you to break in your new prize." And with that, the brigand left, closing the door behind him. Freyja still forced her gaze downward. The few seconds of silence felt like an eternity. Kidnapped, she had just been sold as part of some casual transaction, to whom the likes of which, she still had no idea or measure.
"I'm Edward Bakker. This is my house, my lands, my business. I trust you are well?"
Her mind raced a light year a minute. How could she possibly answer that question? What was she to say?
"You speak standard English, yes?" There was no harshness in his tone. Nothing made sense. "You're bought and paid for, you might as well speak, child. Or at the very least look up."
She steeled herself, unsure of how to proceed, cognizant of the fact that her fate likely rested on what she said and did now. "Apologies, Lord Bakker. I am not altogether well, no, having been kidnapped, my companion shot, and now finding myself sold into some sort of servitude. And now I find myself here at your apparent mercy."
Ned Bakker sighed. "You can start by getting off your knees, girl. Be seated." He waited for her to rise and take a chair before taking his own seat behind the desk. "Your accent, not from this part of space. You're no periphery scoundrel. Republic, I'd wager?"
Freyja fought to control her breathing. "No, sir. I was born on Altorra, in the Capellan Confederation.
"You don't sound Capellan to me."
"No, sir. I was raised by my mother and my aunt, we traveled a lot." She gripped one hand in the other to keep from trembling.
"And how did you end up here, in the Periphery? Bart Carter might be a mean old pirate, but I know damn well he didn't sail halfway across the 'Sphere just to run into you."
She paused for a time before answering. "I suppose I was running away. I had expectations, assurances, I had things all laid out for me. But I ran away from all of that. I thought I was going to find myself or forge my own way somehow. And now....now I'm just here."
Bakker stood and walked over small side table and picked up two glasses and a bottle. He poured a dark amber liquid into each glass, and handed one to Freyja. "Drink. We distill the stuff right here, and you'll find finer potions throughout the Sphere no doubt, but in my years on this planet I've found it's kick is suited perfectly to it's home."
She took a small sip of what she could discern was some potent form of whiskey, and almost immediately regretted it as the alcohol vapors tickled at the back of her throat. "You will forgive my ignorance, but I don't even know what planet this is."
Ned Bakker took his seat again and drank a strong swig of the whiskey. "You find yourself, girl, on the planet Lummatii, in the Lothian League...well, how much of it is the Lothian League and how much is the Marian Hegemony, who's to say. And on my estate, which I've run for nearly twenty years now. My lands are a mix of agriculture, but the big money is in the old mine, about ten kilometers away. That's where I make most of my money, run my business, support my family. I've a number of tenants who rent my land, the feudal system works quite well out here. But you, I brought here because I need a Mech pilot."
There was no scale to measure the speed at which Freyja's mind was running wild at that moment. "All of this, just to get a MechWarrior? I don't understand."
"You're thinking like a Spheroid, my girl. Mechs are rare out here, and so too are Mechwarriors. There's hardly anywhere that trains them, and anyone that has a Mech is likely out selling his or her sword for some lord or other, or turning to plunder like your friend Bart Carter back there. The fees they would command, well, it wouldn't make much sense for my business. So, I went the only route I could, I bought one. You. I confess that I didn't think Bart Carter was going to snatch me up a girl, barely old enough to be out on her own. But as the man said, beggars can't be choosers."
Freyja swallowed hard. "I don't know how any of this works. I...I never....I don't know, my lord."
"The legalities of it? This is the Marian Hegemony. Slavery is legal. How Bart Carter came about you is his business. I bought you fair and square. You are my property and you will follow all of my orders. I'll not treat you harshly unless you give me cause. You needn't worry yourself over your honor, I didn't bring you here for anything like that. You'll live here in the main house with me and my family. You'll serve at my pleasure. I'll not hurt you in any way that I musn't, but know this: You belong to me and my family and if you do anything to bring harm on that family, I will punish you most severely. Do we have a measure of each other?"
Part of her wanted to run. Part of her wanted to just give up. But she had nowhere to run, and she could not give up. "Yes, my lord. We do."
"Good. My wife, Clarissa, will get you settled. We'll discuss particulars tomorrow if need be. And I beg your pardon, but in all this mess, Bart Carter never made mention of your name?
"Freyja McCarron, sir."
Mere moments later, she found herself in a fairly small room, a bed against one wall, a single window set deeply into the stone of the wall perpendicular to it. There was a meager amount of furniture, all of it of the same dark wood that most things she had seen so far seemed to be carved from. There was a small fireplace, which currently sat dark, and an open doorway off to the far corner. She shivered slightly as she felt a touch on her shoulder.
"At ease, child. I'm sorry for startling you." The speaker was a woman, probably in her forties, Freyja guessed, with rich auburn hair and gentle gray eyes. "I'm Clarissa Bakker, Ned's wife. I wanted to stop by and see that you got settled. I had the staff bring up the bag with your things that Mr. Carter brought along. It's not much, clothes and such. I'll have the maid check in on you after a time to see if there is anything you need. This is your room, we don't keep the fire going much during the spring and summer, but you'll need it come autumn and winter here, it can get quite cold."
Freyja said nothing, and stood relatively motionless, only her eyes moving to take in the surroundings of the room that was to be her new home, her new prison of sorts.
"I'll not pretend to understand how you feel right now. I can only promise that it will be ok. You'll not be harmed here, you'll be well treated. You were brought here only for one thing, because apparently you're a MechWarrior. Do that, and I can promise, I'll do all I can to make the adjustment easier on you. It's not a bad life at all here, and I'd hope that some day you come to feel you are a part of it of your own choosing."
She wished that she had some sort of words to reply with, but her mind stayed empty, numb. She just wanted to curl up into herself, withdraw into a shell and never come out. The older woman waited for a few minutes, saying nothing, before turning to leave. "The wash room is just through that doorway. The Lord and my room is at the far end of the hall, my two children's rooms on either side. When you're up to it, you'll dine with us. For now, I'm sure you'd like to be alone for a time. Don't hesitate to come downstairs if there's anything at all that you need. I suspect Ned will be wanting to get you out in the field tomorrow as early as can be, so rest up."
Freyja waited several minutes after she heard the click of the door shutting before she allowed herself to collapse on the bed in a sea of her own tears.
(Prologue: Later that evening...)
"Good lord, Edward Bakker, you didn't tell me you'd gone and bought a child to pilot your damn 'Mech! What were you thinking?" Clarissa paced the floor of the downstairs family room as the fire crackled behind her and Ned stood at the far end of the room, a glass in his hand.
"I didn't put down any requirements when I told Bart Carter what I needed. Hell, I rather figured he'd just take one of his own crew that was on a short leash or something and sell them off to us. But this was the only way I'm going to get the mining and refinery equipment going again, we talked about that. I'm not any more keen on the whole slavery thing than you are, but that's the economy out here. It's the way of life. We knew that, you knew that when we decided to put down roots here."
"I know that, I know we're not back in the Commonwealth, and that we'd probably have never made it back there. Certainly not the life that we have here. But for lord's sake, the girl's barely older than Peter is."
Ned took a long sip of his drink. "I've got all the paperwork from Bart from when he nabbed her, knocking over a passenger liner. She's 19, born in the Capellan Confederation, a noble no less. I guess she ran off to prove herself a Mechwarrior, signed up with some unit stationed in the Hegemony, and got nabbed when Bart raided the ship. Just her luck too, back before the blackout, he'd have made way more ransoming her back to her family than he ever could selling her off to us."
"I'm still not easy with this Ned. It seems wrong."
He sighed. "Look, if I went and let her go, she'd run off in a heartbeat, my industrial mech would still be stuck in the works with no way of getting it out, the equipment not running, and our bills come due faster than I'd like to think. Is it a pretty solution? No. But it's how it has to be for our family to survive. It's dog eat dog out here. We knew that when we settled."
Clarissa stood with her hands on her hips. "Alright, but know this. Nobody lays a hand on that girl. She's as safe as if she were one of our children. You understand?"
"Like family. You've my word, love."
Monday, April 30, 2018
Chapter 1
Xolara
Solaris City, Solaris VII
Lyran Alliance
12 March, 3067
It wasn’t exactly a seedy bar, but it wasn’t the most upscale of places either. Faith sat towards the rear of the bar, the better to keep an eye on the comings and goings of the various patrons. For the most part, the people frequenting the bar were working class locals with a smattering of tourists thrown in for good measure. Faith was fairly certain that she had pegged the local criminal element doing their normal running, and from the look of it, it was mostly low level trade in illicit substances, and some kind of sex ring that she wasn't quite sure of, and was pretty sure she didn’t want to be sure of.
Today, however, held a new surprise. From a back hallway of the bar emerged a woman, followed closely by two men who were clearly auditioning for the role of archetypal bodyguard. The blonde woman was probably in her forties, perhaps early fifties, but had a certain grace about the way she walked. It didn’t exactly put her out of place here, but it did make her stand out. She was dressed in a dark gray business suit over a teal blouse. Her blonde hair was swept back and her earrings showed a trace of norse influence in them, pegging her as a Rasalhagian native in Faith’s quick estimation.
Not particularly to Faith’s surprise, the woman made her way over to Faith’s table. Faith was the new arrival here, and more likely as not, she knew she would have to explain herself to someone, sometime. The bartender had taken little interest in her, and she had quickly dismissed any notions that he might be one of those bartenders who truly ran a watering hole and had the feel for the information that flowed through it. No, the one who ran this particular establishment was now making her way over to meet Faith.
“Am I disturbing you?” The woman’s tone was neutral, and her voice held a surprising warmth that Faith wouldn’t have anticipated.
“No. And given all the options that a local boss could have been, I’ll take you.”
The other woman took a seat across the table from her and smiled slightly, almost self-reflectedly. “So I’m the ‘boss’, am I?”
Faith kept her tone no-nonsense. “I don’t know what the title is that you go by, but yeah. Seems to me you’re the one in charge. At least of this place, and I’d wager a little further. Nature abhors a vacuum, so there’s always someone who manages what goes on in a given area. You’ve got the presence, and you’ve got the goon squad following you around. So I figure it’s you.”
“I’m Astrid Bensen, and I’m a...local businesswoman. So, what is a low level mech jock doing slumming it here in Xolara in our beautiful neighborhood?” This woman’s stock just rose a notch in Faith’s eyes. At least she had done her research before the meeting.
“Well, you obviously know me. That means you also know I’m a little bit more than a mech jock. I like to keep my hands in a few different cookie jars. For now, I’m just scoping out talent for a friend of mine.”
“And you expect to find it here? This isn’t exactly the Hiring Hall on Outreach.”
While there was some truth to the woman’s words, Faith had plied her trade in the Solaris underworld long enough to know that plenty of talent flowed through the bottom levels of the Solaris experience, it was just a matter of filtering out all of the muck. “I’ve spent plenty of time myself away from the fancy lights of the big city, so I know that talent doesn’t just pool in one place. But I’m sure you know that too. Even if you don’t trade in it, you know what goes through your little piece of the pie.”
Astrid smiled with the corner of her mouth. “You might be surprised what I trade in. But mostly I just watch, make sure things run smoothly. It has it’s rewards.”
And there it was. Faith nodded. “I understand, this is your turf. Anything I find here comes with a storage fee attached. That’s not a problem. Although that might be.” She nodded towards the front of the bar where two drunk patrons were nearly at blows with each other over the virtues of Lyran vs. Davion mechwarriors.
Astrid chuckled. “Those two have been fighting since before the riots. They know that if they break anything, they have to pay for it. Other than that, they’re harmless. As for you and I, I’m glad we understand one another. I like to look at everything as an opportunity rather than a problem. If there’s anything you need during your time here, I’m sure I can point you in the right direction.”
It was about half an hour past last call, and Faith made her way down the sidewalk. It had been raining, but right now the air just hung heavy with moisture and all the surfaces were slick with rainwater. She hadn’t really found anything tonight, but at the very least she had come to an understanding with the local turf boss, such as she was. She didn’t plan to make her way all the way back to Solaris City proper, she had rented a small hole in the wall apartment here in the Reaches to crash at on nights like this. She had nursed her drinks, but there was still a bit of a buzz going on in her head.
Enough of a buzz that she paused instead of walking past when she heard a commotion in the alley to her left. It was the kind of alley that was straight out of some pulp fiction novel, narrow with high walls on either side, suitably dotted with various fire escapes, small fences, and other assorted ironmongery, and just enough lighting from sources you couldn’t make out to illuminate the things you didn’t want to see.
At this hour, what Faith didn’t want to see was a tourist-looking couple backed against the side wall of the alley, and three archetypal low life thugs menacing them in a rough semi-circle. As she approached, Faith could make out some of the conversation.
“We….we’re just asking questions, looking for information, that’s all. We didn’t mean to bother anyone” stammered the male half of the tourist couple. He looked to be in his fifties, easily pegged as a tourist by his business casual clothes and the frightened tone in his voice.
“Yeah, well too late for that, pops. You already caused a bother. You come around here looking for something, you gotta pay a finders fee. Lucky for you, you found the tax collector. Me. Now all you gotta do is turn over everything you got on you, and hey, we’ll even go easy on the little lady there.” The large oaf in the center of the semi-circle was obviously the self-appointed leader of this “tax collection” gang.
The thug to the left guffawed. “Speak for yourself, Manny. Takin’ care of the ole business don’t come cheap down here for some of us. I bet momma there could help me out.”
“Just leave us alone!” The man yelled.
“Hey, chill man. You can watch if that’s what heats up your PPC,” the second thug laughed heartily at his own humor.
“Hey boys, you’re a little way from the tax office, wouldn’t you say?” Faith interjected, causing all three of the goons to turn and face her. Manny, the one who passed for an alpha in this particular pack shook his hand casually, showing off the medium sized knife he held in it.
“What’s it to you, girl scout? We’re having a private conversation here with these fine folks. Why don’t you take that tight little ass of yours outta here and go work the circuit, if you get my drift.” She could tell these three were small time, they obviously weren’t Yakuza, Tongs, or Mafia, and had probably just stumbled on these two tourists who just happened to be practically wearing a giant “rob me” sign.
“Because, Manny, watching the local dropouts roughing up the paying customers isn’t my thing. It gives me heartburn. So why don’t you go on home, help each other out, and call it a night. I assure you that this tight little ass is more trouble than it’s worth to you.” By this point she knew that a fight was inevitable. She also knew she could handle this street trash.
Goon number two was the first to make a move, producing a club of some sort from behind his back and casually walking toward her. “I got just the thing to loosen that asshole, bitch!” As he spoke, he wound up and took a clumsy swing at her. She deflected the blow and grabbed the man’s arm, shoving down with enough force that he awkwardly stumbled to the ground. She slammed her booted foot down on his arm, hearing a satisfying snap as his grip on the club gave way. As she spun around to face the remaining two criminals, she drew the semi-auto holdout pistol that she had squirreled away in the back of her belt.
“Anyone else looking to loosen me up tonight?” She wasn’t sure why, but she caught a hint of indecision in Manny’s eyes. She squeezed the trigger, sending a slug through Manny’s shoulder with a sharp crack. The thug spun around with the impact and let out a howl.
At about that time, the combination of the alcohol and the adrenaline hit Faith’s brain. Time seemed to freeze, lights blurred, and sounds fell to a muffle. She was vaguely aware of the trio of men scurrying their way out the back of the alley, and the shocked couple running up to her after a moment or two.
“What are we going to do?! Miss? Lady?!,” the female of the couple was practically pleading with Faith for a response. Faith blinked hard, shaking herself out of the fugue state.
“Wait for the cops. Always wait for the cops.”
Saturday, April 28, 2018
Prologue
Solaris Spaceport
International Zone, Solaris City
Solaris VII
Lyran Alliance
10 March, 3067
Solaris VII. I can't count the number of times this world has tried to kill me. That it hasn’t yet succeeded isn’t for lack of creativity or lack of trying. Yet I always seem to find myself back here. Maybe it’s the money. Maybe it’s the fame. Shit, who are you fooling, girl, it’s the adrenaline and the danger. Like a junkie who has sworn off drugs, I can never quite turn down the lure of the good stuff. Just one more time. At least that’s what I tell myself every time I come back. One more time. And if history is any guide, I’ll end up with my life hanging in the balance somewhere, my heart pounding in my head and the life pulsing slowly out of me, and I’ll tell myself this is the last time, I’ll tell myself never again. Some people call me a glutton for punishment. Some people call me an idiot. And some people, some people call me a marshmallow…
Faith McCarron walked slowly through the crowd with her hands stuffed in her pockets. There wasn’t much use in fighting the crowds, at least not at the spaceport at unloading time. The crowd here was no different than the crowd in an arena, there were certain times you weren't going to move it or change it, you just had to ride it.
This was one of them. She had come in on a commercial passenger hauler, and hers was one of three that was unloading at the spaceport at this hour. The crowd was big, and the crowd was mixed. There were the scattered hopefuls, she could still spot them. They were the new warriors, coming to Solaris hoping to make a name for themselves. Some were starting out. Some were trying to start over. Almost all of them would fail. Some of them would die. But right now, they were soaking in the sights, trying to get a feel for their new home.
She had been in that position once, years ago. Disillusioned with the life of taking orders as a simple soldier, she had come here to carve her own path. It hadn’t worked out the way she had planned, but life seldom did. But neither had it been a failure. She rolled with the punches, adapted, and got good. That’s what you did on Solaris, you got good or you died.
But life on Solaris was never really simple, and one tended to get entangled in complications, no matter if you wanted to or not. Those were the kind of complications that had taken her offworld for a time, back into the service of House Liao, and she had served well. But now it was time to return home. Things were changing. The Federated Commonwealth had split in two in a bloody civil war, and the Inner Sphere was never going to be the same again. When things changed, Faith tried to ground herself, and that meant coming home to Solaris.
Solaris, too, had seen its share of change. Riots had torn the city apart, as the FedCom Civil War had spilled into the streets, eventually embroiling even the other sectors of the city. Even the games, that stalwart center of Solaran life, had ground to a halt for a time. They were slowly coming back, but that meant opportunities. And opportunities were why Faith was back here. Opportunities for what, that was the question.
For now, she simply let the crowd move her along until she had made her way outside the confines of the spaceport building. The skies were cloudy, but the rains for which Solaris was famous were not, for the moment, falling. Vehicles, both wheeled and hover propelled, were fighting each other for position along the roadway that led away from the complex, and people swarmed in and amongst them like insects. The vehicles seemed to be in an almost constant state of motion, like a system of blood vessels carrying the newly arrived deeper into the city to whatever fate awaited them. There were a million stories being carried into the city that way, Faith’s just another among the flow.
“Sneaking into town without so much as a whisper, are we?” The owner of the voice slipped casually into step beside Faith. She silently scolded herself for allowing someone to have followed her and slipped in beside her without notice as she had been lost in her reverie at returning to the city, even as a smile crept onto her face at the recognition of the voice itself.
“I had no idea you were in system, Victoria. You never call, you never write,” Faith replied. She cast a sidelong glance at her new companion. “And besides, it looks like you’re slumming it, too.”
The woman chuckled. Victoria Merryweather was the owner and head of her own corporation, and worth more millions than Faith cared to guess, but today she wore jeans and a simple sweater, along with what Faith judged to be obnoxiously large sunglasses. “What can I say, things are boring at home, and you know my love for the games here. Besides, with things heating up in the Chaos March, this is as good a place as any to get your pulse on the vein of the universe.”
That was a phrase Victoria had used before, and that pulse seemed always tied to money. If there were deals to be had, weapons to be sold, contracts to be signed, Victoria would be nearby, that was one thing of which you could be assured. But on top of all that, she had a gambling streak in her. She liked to take a chance, she liked the thrill of living on the edge, and that was what had brought her both to the game world and across Faith’s path in the past.
Faith took in her surroundings once again, feeling the pulse, as it were. Yes, it was the same game world, but there was a definite edge. And it wasn’t just here. Something big was on the horizon, and like animals before an earthquake, people seemed to sense it that it was coming, even if they didn’t understand what it was. “And you just happened to be strolling incognito through the International sector when you bumped into me?”
“Ok, so I might have had your name flagged to watch for when my people sort through all that boring data. I figured I’d surprise you, what with you being my favorite mechwarrior and all.”
Faith allowed herself a grin. “Now I know something is up. Ok, I’ll buy that I’m in your rolodex of keywords to look for on interweb traffic, right next to Ferro-fibrous armor. But buttering me up on top of that? You have a plan.”
“I like to call them programs, but yes, I have a plan. Find me after you get settled?” Good, bad, or horrible, Faith had found her thread to pull on. The game world was alive once again.
Penthouse Number One, TharHes Tower
Silesia, Solaris City
Solaris VII
Lyran Alliance
11 March, 3067
The aroma of synthetic opium hung in the air as the two women gazed up into the surprisingly clear Solaran night sky. It was a cloudless night, and the glass ceiling afforded a totally unobstructed view of the stars above.
“All those stars, and we always seem to end up around the same few. Makes you wonder if we really choose our own paths at all, doesn’t it?” Faith mused, half to herself, as she let the lingering effects of the drugs coursing through her veins run their course. She wasn't often openly self-reflective, but she allowed herself the indulgence here in the relative safety of the company of a friend.
“Don't get all philosophical with me. We make our own way, you should know that better than most. That’s part of what makes you my favorite mechwarrior, you and I, neither of us have anything that we didn’t fight tooth and nail to earn. There’s a lot to be said for that.” Victoria countered as she rolled from her back to prop herself on her elbows to look at Faith.
Faith chuckled slightly, “Your favorite? So you keep a harem of mechwarriors around, do you?”
Victoria smiled. “On this world, they call it a stable. And no, I don’t keep one. Yet.” She paused for a moment. “That’s what I was referring to earlier. I’m thinking of forming my own stable, and I’d like you at the top of my fight card.”
Faith paused and pondered for a moment, before turning her head slightly to meet Victoria’s now intense gaze. “You’re serious?”
She nodded. “You’ve known me long enough to know that I don’t play around when it comes to business. When I inherited Merryweather Industries, it was a joke, we had fallen from being the first private company to ever build a BattleMech to a parts supplier and builder of industrial farm equipment. And now, we’ve got mech’s rolling off the line, we’re producing top of the line equipment, and we’re more profitable than ever in our history. I fight to win, just like you.”
Faith knew the truth of what she was saying. A chance contract on Alula Australis had crossed her path with Victoria years ago, when she was still in the process of rebuilding her family company. Their friendship had grown, and so had Victoria’s company. If you were going to have a friend with benefits, you may as well go for a financially solvent one as not, she had figured, and their relationship had grown and paid dividends for both of them.
“Why me?” she asked, then followed up, “And why now?”
“Why now? That’s easy. There was no way I could break into the field of stable owners before. You have to have more than just cash to open up a stable, or the planet would be littered with them. No, they’re a closed group. But things have been shaken up here. The riots, the Fed-com split, everything. It’s a more open world than it’s ever been before. And I intend to cash in on that.”
It made sense. Solaris VII had a system that had worked well for decades without change. Sure, Kai Allard-Liao had shaken things up a bit after the Clan Wars, but that change was small, and had been met with resistance from many of the other stable owners. But the split of the Federated Commonwealth had broken the whole system wide open, with riots in the streets, and stables fighting each other across Solaris City in BattleMechs. Things had started to get back to normal, but if there was a time to make a new normal, it was now.
“Okay, that settles the why now. But why me? You’re not going to break into the big time with a fighter like me,” she paused as she brushed a hair out of her face. “Yeah, I’m good, but I’m not predictable, and I’m not big time. You’d need to score a Top Twenty, wouldn’t you?”
Victoria smiled. “You always go for the jugular right away. That’s not how I’m going to succeed at this. What you are is a known quantity to me, and an unknown to the rest of them out there. You’ve been away long enough that they’ve forgotten about you for the most part. But I haven’t. I know what you’re capable of. And you also don’t build a stable on the back of one fighter. I’ll need to recruit talent. I’ll need you to judge that talent. And on top of that, there’s the normal recruiting channels, which are open to me, obvious, and clogged with chaff. But you know this city. You know the system. I’m counting on you to find a few diamonds in the rough, as it were.”
It was a tempting offer. Not that she was hurting for money, but taking Victoria up on her offer was tantamount to gaining a sugar mama. It was steady work with an almost limitless income stream.
“It’s going to tie me down here. Indefinitely.”
Victoria slid closer to her, caressing her arm. “That may not be a bad thing either. I would love having you around, but putting my own personal interest in things aside, maybe this is a good time for you to settle down for a bit. I know you’re a free agent and always will be. I respect that. But things are getting deadly out there. I know it’s a free agent’s market right now, but I have a bad feeling about things.”
Faith rolled onto her side to better match the other woman’s gaze. “They don't call it the Chaos March for nothing. It’s crazy out there, but that’s nothing new. I’ve survived, no, I’ve thrived in that environment. What has you spooked now?”
Victoria looked away for a second, composing her thoughts. “It’s not anything I can put a finger on, it’s just a feeling that something major is about to happen. There’s a lot of money and arms flowing out there, more than there should be. And technology. It took decades for the Grey Death Memory Core to bear fruit in terms of production level improvements. Now, as the owner of an arms firm, I can get access to levels of technology we couldn’t even dream of just a few years ago. I’ve already got licensing agreements to produce LFE’s, Rotary autocannon, and improved Medium lasers. Twenty years ago, I’d have had to murder someone to get plans for an ER large laser. Now, hell, it’s harder to get drugs than it is to get new tech. It’s all flowing from somewhere, being seeded, and I don’t know why.”
“Isn’t that like looking a gift horse in the mouth?,” Faith parried.
Victoria sighed. “Maybe. But if I’m going to be indebted to someone, I’d like to know who the paymaster is. And either way, I don’t see things ending calmly. Either way, it would be good for you to get a solid footing for once, don’t you think?”
Faith chuckled. “I built myself a castle back on Altorra. I think I have pretty solid footing.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about. When things go bad...if things go bad, you’ll need to surround yourself with the right people. This could be a start.”
Faith smiled gently. “A start then.”
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