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February 10, 3040
Harlech, Outreach
Han Zoku squinted his eyes into the early morning sun as the ramp ahead lowered, conscious of the now steady gravity of the world he stood on. After weeks of travel, in zero-G while docked to JumpShips or under low gravity while the DropShip travelled to or from planets, he had finally reached his destination. As the ramp ground against the tarmac of the spaceport, he picked up his duffle bag and smartly stepped forward and down the ramp, getting safely to the side as the ready cargo movers began pushing the first of several massive flatbeds down and out of the DropShip.
One of the ground crew walked towards him, a hand extended for the papers Han was holding. “I understand that you’re signing for these?” he said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder at the two flatbeds that headed the line.
Nodding, Zoku handed the necessary paperwork over. “Yes. They need to be brought out of mothball and there’s a list of known repair work. I understood that the Dragoons run a maintenance facility for…” he stopped, searching for the correct word.
“Independents like yourselves? Yeah, we do. If you have the cash, we can do anything from rebuild a fusion plant to reassemble a Mech from all its component parts. You’ll be assigned to facility Kappa-7, Bays 2 and 3.” The man said, pulling out a data tablet and inputting the assignments. “Huh, busy morning. Looks like that facility is filling fast. Anyway, it’s right over that way, you can hitch a ride on the flatbed and save yourself some walking.”
Handing back the paperwork, the man hurried off to his next task. As he left, another man arrived from inside the dropship. Like Han, he was wearing a nondescript overall and carried a duffle bag with all his worldly possessions. Also like him, there was more than a hint of military march to his walk as they fell in side by side and made their way towards the flatbeds. His features were a strong mix of Capellean and the Western European features of the Federated Suns.
“You arranged a place to get our Mechs fixed?” Whatever his features, his accent clearly gave away his origins, with the strong accent of someone who had grown up speaking Mandarin and Cantonese Chinese first and English a distant second.
“Yeah, they’re pretty used to people with Mechs just showing up, it seems. We’re in Kappa-7, Zhou, over that way.” Han answered. His own accent was also noticeable, an underlay of Japanese with a dash of German threading through his English. The Japanese was understandable, given that he would not have been out of place on any planet in the Draconis Combine, but the German seemed a bit out of place.
The two took their places on the flat beds as they slowly moved across the tarmac in the direction of the massive maintenance facility in the distance. As they passed another DropShip, an argument caught their attention, a red-faced and paunchy ground crewman shouting at a slightly-built youth.
“I don’t give a good goddamn about your story! Your Mech doesn’t have any papers, and that means that for all I know, you stole it from its rightful owner!”
“Hey, it’s mine, alright? Sorry I didn’t get whatever papers you wanted, but its’ not like I knew to ask for them, yeah? My old man, he told me to go out into the world, handed me the neurohelmet and told me to get going, what was I supposed to do?”
Zhou chuckled and shook his head as the argument continued, the ground crewman becoming steadily more agitated, and the kid’s defense becoming steadily more improbable. “You know, it’s obvious that guy’s pushing for a bribe, if the kid was any less green, he’d have slipped him a c-bill note and promised that the paperwork was coming by courier.”
Han nodded his agreement with his own chuckled, but something about the kid’s stance touched him. For all that he was doing a hell of a job standing up for himself, he had a hunch-shouldered look of someone used to having all the world against him. Zoku found himself jumping down and strode over, adopting his best military march.
“Crewman! Is there a problem with my MechWarrior?” he barked with all the officious impatience of an officer finding his schedule being fouled up.
The crewman started and spun around, seeing a glaring Kuritian mercenary staring him down. He wasn’t dressed up fancy, but the ground crew saw more than enough soldiers go through the starport to mark that aura of command.
“Your MechWarrior doesn’t have any paperwork for his Mech! That’s a massive violation of interstellar rules, as well as the Harlech Spaceport guidelines!” he blustered, face red as a tomato in the growing warmth of the day. Behind him, the kid opened his mouth to say something, then closed it as he saw Zhou make a gesture to shut up.
“Ah, yes, that is so. He’s young, and you know how young men are when they first get off the DropShip. I have the paperwork here, with mine. I was just coming to make arrangements.” Han said, holding out the papers for his own Mech… and the folded shape of a thousand C-Bill note mostly hidden by his fingers. “I think you’ll find that everything is in order.”
The man accepted the papers, and deftly made the C-bill disappear. After an intent study of the paperwork, he returned it to Han Zoku and made an entry in his own data slate. In a far calmer and friendlier tone, he replied “Indeed, sir. His Mech is assigned to Bay 7 in same Kappa-7 facility. Have a good day, gentlemen.”
With a smirk, Han Zoku shook his head at the departing man, while the kid looked a bit stunned. “Sometimes, a little respect and a little cash greases the wheels of bureaucracy.” He said, patting the young man on the shoulder. “You should arrange to have some papers forged for your Mech, it saves a lot of trouble.”
“Um… thanks. Thanks for that. I’ll do that.” He said jerkily. Unlike the others, his accent and features were unplaceable, being one of the many in the Inner Sphere who were from such a mix of genes and cultures as to be unremarkable. “Any idea where?” he said with a bit of sarcasm.
Han shrugged. “Sorry, I’m new here too. But this is Outreach, I’m sure there’s someone around who can do it.”
With that, he waved goodbye and jogged back to the flatbed carrying the covered shape of his own BattleMech. Behind him, Xidonius stared after his retreating form, wondering why a stranger would bother helping him. The roar of a motor starting behind him brought him out of his thoughts, and he climbed up onto the flatbed towing his own Mech as it joined the procession of vehicles busy unloading the newly arrived DropShips and distributing their contents to their destinations.
Kappa-7 Repair Facility
Harlech, Outreach
The sounds inside the sprawling building were nearly deafening, a cacophony of metal on metal, winches working, cutting torches flaring as metal hissed and sizzled under their cutting power. Built to hold a full battalion, more than half the facility was currently occupied as Mechs were delivered from the Spaceport or ferried away, gleaming and freshly painted Mechs standing proudly in some bays, while others held examples that looked fitter for the scrapheap then the battlefield.
With pursed lips, Han had to admit that his Mech leaned – quite literally at the moment – more towards the junkyard then the parade ground. Next to him, a tech was running a critical eye over his Mech.
“You were in one hell of a fight, merc, that’s for sure.” She said, a green laser pointer circling gashes and rents in the sturdy Warhammer’s armor, the ropes of myomer muscles spilling from its split hide. “He doesn’t need a full rebuild, but we’ve got a lot of work to do. Definite internal damage to the right torso, right arm, left leg…” She hummed to herself, peering at the Mech, an enhancement monocle dropping over her eye. “Hm. You got lucky, that penetrating shot in the right torso is right around where the SRM racks are stored.”
Han chuckled darkly. “It was right through where the racks are stored. Luckily, I had just fired the last of them.”
She made an extra note for herself. “Good to know, we’ll need to replace the storage bay as well. It looks like a –K model?”
He nodded in reply “Indeed. The maintenance logs are stored in the cockpit, top-right compartment. They should be fairly clear as to the modifications.”
She flipped the monocle back up with a smile. “It’s always pleasant when those are available and up to date. Saves some work figuring out where the lines should have been before someone put an autocannon round through the area. We should be done within the week.”
She bustled off to collect her astechs and get to work, leaving the Mech’s pilot to turn around and see that he had a visitor.
Near the entrance to the bay, another MechWarrior leaned against the wall, looking over the new arrival and his Warhammer with curiosity. His Scandinavian features pointed towards his origins in the Free Rasalhague Republic, backed up by his faded but still neat work overalls in the colors of the KungsArmé.
“Hi, I figured I’d drop by and meet my neighbors, I arrived a few days ago and have my Mech in Bay 1. Name’s Jack, by the way.”
The two shook hands in a friendly fashion.
“Nice to meet you, I’m Han.” The Davion pilot replied, stepping past to peer into the first bay. His eyebrows rose at the sight of the freshly painted Mech that leered down at its visitor. “What the hell? How’d a Rasalhague get ahold of a Wolfhound?”
Jack chuckled and clapped Han on the back. “Well, now, that would be a tale, wouldn’t it? How about we hit a bar and I can tell you how I got my new – and I do mean brand new – beauty, and you can tell me how you got shot all to pieces?”
Han smiled wryly and nodded. “Sure, why not.”
Built to cater to mercenaries, the bars weren’t too far from the Mech bays, and the two, joined by Zhou were quick to begin exchanging increasingly improbable war stories over their beers. None of them noticed Xidonius lurking nearby, listening with fascination to their tales.
February 28
Kappa-7 Repair Facility, Bay 12
Discouraged, Han trudged into the converted Mech bay. An accident a few months ago had damaged the heavy equipment that kept a damaged Mech in a standing position, and until the facility got around to making repairs, the MechWarriors and the techs had turned the bay into an ad-hoc recreation area, complete with a bar and crates of cheap beer from the local stores. The prices were better than the local bars and the beer less watered down, so the place had become a favorite hangout for everyone who had an interest in the facility.
Roger Williams waved a hand to call Han over to a large table, circled by MechWarriors and techs and liberally decorated with beer glasses at various levels of consumption.
“Welcome back, how’d your interview go?” he called, and Han scowled as he walked over, his expression lightening as Kevin Collider, the somewhat oddball pilot of the Scorpion in Bay 18, handed him a beer.
“Oh, fine… if I was willing to sign over my Warhammer, take an assignment to a Commando and work my way up through the unit. Why, in a few years I might graduate to a battle lance!” he said, taking a swig from his cold beer as the table dissolved into laughter.
“Yeah, I don’t think I endeared myself to him when I laughed in his face and walked out.” Han said, mood starting to lighten as another round of laughter greeted him.
“I haven’t had any luck either,” Martin Johnson said, shaking his head as he poured himself another beer. “You’d think there’d be units that’d be slavering to take on someone with his own mech.”
“That’s the problem, though. Most units, the unit owns the Mechs and hires MechWarriors to pilot them. Unless you’re willing to sell the Mech to them, they have no use for you.” Konrad Lai said from where he was sitting next to Jack. The two had become fast friends over shared experiences in the KungsArmé.
“And once they have your Mech, they can kick you right back to the street and stick one of their own in its seat.” James Brenner said with a nod, his crisp accent a bit slurred, as the party had obviously been underway for a while already. “Nearly happened to me, in fact. I got lucky and heard the asshole in charge laughing it up with his buddy while they were getting my contract together. Probably surprised him when he came back out and I was long gone”
A few hours later…
Zhou lazily spun an empty bottle on the edge of its base, a finger on the rim keeping it from toppling over. He was a little glassy-eyed by now, and everyone was a few sheets to the wind. “You know what? We should form our own unit. I mean, we got a whole company of Mechs in here, got a nice mix of weights and everything.”
Han laughed, leaning back in a chair with his feet on the table. “That’s a hell of an idea, man. Everyone owns their own Mech, everyone has a stake in the unit.”
Martin grinned and tapped his glass on the tabletop. “Like a company! Well… a corporation company, not a military company… but we’ll be both! Some of the stables on Solaris works that way, they seem to do pretty good.”
Jack took a moment to focus, looking up from the card game he was playing (and winning handily) with some of the others. “Yeah, but we’d need to have some serious cash. Mechs don’t get repaired for free, we’d need to hire techs, astechs, pay for transportation…”
Xidonius wobbled away from the table without a word and with careful concentration, made his way towards his Mech in distant Bay 23. The conversation flowed on in his absence, but he returned quickly, staggering a little and holding a large trunk in his arms. Unceremoniously dumping it on the table, he flipped it open and asked brightly “Hey, would this help?”
Staring at the overflowing stacks of C-bills and every type of House currency, Alexander Roberts shook his head. “Good Lord, man, you’re loaded! Where’d you get all this anyway?”
“Eh, the guy who owned it didn’t need it anymore.” Xidonius said with a shrug.
“Who doesn’t need a couple million C-bills?” Martin said, eyes gleaming as he took in the stacks of currency.
“Someone who just got killed for being a slaving bastard.” Xidonius said quietly.
The group became quiet for a moment, then Xidonius shrugged. “Anyway, he didn’t need it, I brought it with me, now we have it. What’re we going to name ourselves?”
The sudden flip in topic seemed to disorient a few people, but as more beers were passed around, conversation picked up again.
The following morning…
Han groaned as he slowly awoke, feeling like an Atlas was busy kicking the inside of his skull. “What the hell did we do last night?” he asked no one in particular.
“I… think we formed a mercenary unit.” James said, clutching a mug of coffee with both hands like a lifeline.
“That’s crazy, why’d we do that?” Han said, feeling his headache increase somehow.
“Probably so we could take out a loan from the Rasalhauge National Bank.” Jack said, sitting on a chair with his head nearly between his knees and rocking back and forth a little. “For 10 million C-bills.”
“We… did what?”
“We all signed it, even, so we’re all liable. We’re on the hook for about 2 million in interest over the next year, and we put up nearly 10 million C-Bills in assets.”
“What assets do we have… oh. They’ll seize BattleMechs if we can’t repay it?”
“Bingo.”
Han considered this deeply “I’m too sober for this shit.” He finally declared.
“Join the club.”
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Topic: Let's Play MegaMek (Against the Bot campaign) (Read 73884 times)