February 29, 3040
Harlech, Outreach
Martin took the contract from Jack’s unresisting hand, surprisingly cheerful and obviously better at holding his alcohol then many of the others. Behind him, Konrad had cleared some space on the table and was busy making something that smelled horrible.
“Oh man, those interest rates! They really took advantage of our alcohol-fueled enthusiasm there. But those are peanuts compared to what I had to pay back home. Ah heh… my loans were peanuts as well, compared to this…”
The reality of their situation seemed to finally penetrate through Zhou’s hangover. He snatched it away from Martin and stared disbelievingly at it, turned even paler and thrust it back into Martin’s hands and threw up extensively. Martin leapt away from the expulsion with an exclamation of disgust and checked his shoes for spatter before shrugging.
“But hell, this is so cool! This is even better than those Solaris stables. We’ll be all rich and famous soon! I can’t wait! Especially for the rich part, though the famous helps with the girls as well…” he said, trailing off into what was no doubt a fantasy about girls hanging off both arms.
Keeping his focus off Zhou and his continued attempt to produce everything he had eaten and drank over the last week, Han focused his eyes on Konrad, who was busy mixing rotgut and fermented cabbage together. Next to him, James had stopped with his coffee cup halfway to his mouth, and several others were staring with mixtures of fascination and disgust.
Konrad raised the glass cheerily. “What? Is hair of dog. Prost!” he said, downing the mixture in one go.
Kevin looked at him with sick fascination. “I can’t believe that you drank that.”
“Why? You want hair of dog also?”
“…Why not, it can’t make my head feel any worse.”
Konrad started making two new glasses as Kevin sat down next to him.
Martin came back from whatever fantasy had been playing behind his eyes. “We’ll need a cool name as well, something awesome like… I don’t know… Wolf’s Dragoons cool, not Eridani Light Horse boring. So people will remember our name and fear us. Also cheer us, of course. Cheering is important, I should know, I’m from Solaris. You can’t cheer a name like 1. Port Arthur Regiment, 5th Battalion, 3rd Lance.”
Han frowned, a memory tickling his forebrain.
Last night…
“…But what do we call ourselves?”
“I know, what about Zoku's 7th Kappas of Zoku's Kappa Sevens?” Zhou said enthusiastically, currently balanced on the border between heavily wasted and incoherently drunk.
“Eh, I don’t know. Kappas are sort of a weird thing to name yourself after.” Alexander opinioned.
“Huh?”
“Kappa. It’s a turtle-spirit thing, likes to play tricks and drown people in rivers.”
“What, really? Huh….”
Roger looked around for inspiration and his eyes lit on the sign on the way. “What about the Bay 12 Brawlers?”
“Sounds like a rugby team.”
“Bay 12 Brigade?”
“Only twelve, invite awkward questions.”
“Bay 12 Lancers then!”
“That has potential.”
“What about… the 12th Bay Lancers?”
“Why 12th?”
“Makes it sound like we have history.”
“What happens when someone asks where the other eleven units are?”
“We make up stories about their heroism and courage and glorious last stands, of course.”
“I know… the 12th Bay Hammerers!” Han said with a wide grin on his face
“What?”
“Why?”
“Because we’re absolutely hammered!”
“Yeah!”
There was a general cheer of celebration.
The present…
Han shook his head and regretted it. “Hey, Martin, we’d have to put a name on the form for the loan. What was it?”
Martin squinted at it. “Handwriting is bad, but… the 12th Bay Hammerers? I think? Whose idea was that?”
Han considered things. Maybe if he went back to sleep, he’d wake up and this was all a bad hangover dream…
“Also… um… Han, you DO know where to ask for jobs… I mean contracts, right?” Martin asked a bit hesitantly. Zhou perked up and stopped heaving for a minute. Dripping drool and with chunks of food lining his lips, he put a hand on Han’s shoulder and with a half-smirk said “Yeah, Han, better get us a contraaAAAAAAAEUGH!” ending the sentence by returning to heaving ore food out onto the floor.
Han closed his eyes and breathed slowly through his diaphragm to attempt to quiet his own roiling stomach as Zhou plastered the floor in front of them again. The sound of retching filled his ears a Xidonius finally woke up, took in the sights and enthusiastically joined in. A few noises indicated other people having varied amounts of success in mastering their stomachs.
Of everyone, James with his coffee and Konrad and Kevin with their terrible drinks were doing the best, looking fairly blasé about the whole situation.
“So,” Konrad remarked, in between a hearty gulp which induced groans and some further retching from a few folks towards the back, “who is being chain of command, ja? What is the word… not it, ja?”
Stepping away from Zhou, Han felt his brain slowly starting to clear as he focused on practical matters.
“Well, it’s my birthday today, and it’d be a hell of a present from you all if I was in char…ge…” Martin said, stumbling to a halt at the cold and red-eyed stare of most of the others. Even Zhou was managing to maintain level eye contact. “Then again, someone with actual er… military experience would probably be better.” He finished lamely.
Han smirked “Happy birthday, Martin. As for a present, I won’t make you help clean up in here. Who else has experience at the command level? I was a Lance commander with the AFFS.”
James raised his coffee cup. “4th Lyran Regulars, Lance commander.”
Zhou raised a trembling hand, heaving under control. “12th Liao Lancers, it wasn’t official but I was in charge of either a Lance of a Company, depending on how drunk my superiors were at the time.”
Jack finally sat back, a bit more color in his face then earlier. “Lance Commander and Company XO in the FRR KungsArmé.”
Han looked around. “Anyone else?” but the others shook their heads or weren’t feeling forthcoming about their experience.
Han took a deep breath and wrinkled his nose. “OK, let’s get ourselves cleaned up and clean up in here. Once everyone is more or less human again, we’ll need to sort things out.”
Martin looked around casually. “Oh, and is there… like some training place? I am eh… a bit rusty with that PPC.”
Brenner had an uneasy feeling in his stomach. Most likely caused by the copious amounts of liquor he had consumed the night before with his new brothers-in-arms, but also by the slow realization that several of the people who would be responsible for watching his back might have absolutely zero actual combat experience. He seemed to recall in what had become a jazzy blur of a night at least one pilot claiming to have just taken a Mech and booking passage directly to Outreach.
A pilot who didn't know what they was doing, was a liability, worse if they were foolish enough to think themselves better than those around him. And unlike the State armed forces, if a pilot got himself killed, there wouldn't be a replacement on hand. An outfit’s profitability hinged on the survivability of its jockeys.
Thankfully Outreach had galaxy-renowned training facilities. It would probably be a very good thing to get many of those gathered out for a run to gauge everyone's skill level. But perhaps a few bouts in the simulator would probably be in order first.
James downed the last slug of his quickly-cooling coffee, "I wouldn't mind walking people through a simulator session for those who are interested." Adding with a smirk, "Once people's stomachs have settled of course. Wouldn't want to lose our deposits on cleaning fees."
Han nodded in agreement. “That sounds good, James, you’re in charging of feeding everyone through the simulators. No exceptions, folks. Make sure to run them through the Dragoons’ rating modules – I know a lot of us are former military, but not everyone is and we need to know how we stack up.”
James nodded in agreement, but Jack raised an eyebrow. “Who died and make you Coordinator?” he asked as Han started taking charge.
“First Prince, actually. I’m Davion.” Han replied smoothly.
“I don’t give a damn if you were named Primus of ComStar. There are four of us who were lance commanders, what puts you ahead of the rest of us?”
James held up his hands “Whoa, count me out. I’m happy to lead a Lance again, but I want to get settled in before taking a step up to captaincy.”
Zhou paled again and shook his head. “A Lance has always been enough trouble, I’m not asking for all the problems of organizing a company from scratch.”
Han shrugged at Jack. “Mostly the fact that I opened my mouth first. We’re going to have to feel our way through this, but on the battlefield, there needs to be a clear chain of command. You want to be Captain? Go for it, but you get to deal with all the paperwork and headaches that come with it.”
Jack frowned and looked around, the atmosphere becoming tense before he relaxed. “You willing to play Captain, I’m willing to play XO again. Like James, I want a chance to climb the ranks in the future, but for now, I’m happy to leave the headaches to someone else.”
Conflict averted, the group relaxed again and Han looked around. “I’m not going to ask for military discipline – some of you left your House because you were sick of it, some of you never knew it in the first place. But just because we aren’t a line company in a House doesn’t mean that there won’t be rules, positions of authority and the need for obedience to orders. I’m the Captain, Jack, James and Zhou are our Lieutenants. If we order you to jump, you should be half-way into the air before “Why?” finishes coming out of your mouth. In return, we’ll work to earn your trust and respect that questions aside, you know that if we order you to jump its to prevent someone from taking you off at the knees.”
“Now, go hit the showers, take whatever hangover cure you prefer, and meet back up here in two hours. We’ll clean up the mess we made here, then we’ll start working the simulators so we can clean up the mess we made of our finances.”
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Topic: Let's Play MegaMek (Against the Bot campaign) (Read 74972 times)