Planck’s Quantum Hole, Copernicus Caldera,

Einstein, Deep Periphery

17^th March 3068

 

I cannot believe Deserk is dead, and that I am still alive. This recurring thought came to Descartin Winters again and again as he sat on his bed in his makeshift bunk in the base, his patched-up legs pulled up to his chest and his arms wrapped around his knees.

He was prepared to die in that last fight. He was even eager to embrace death, and it had given him a focus, a sense of power that terrified him.

During the battle, the fight with the advanced drones, he had felt invincible. Stravag, he was invincible. There was no target he did not take down once he started on it, no enemy could touch him.

Until the sky erupted in fire and light.

He remembered thinking that it was the end for him, when almost all the armor on his mech had been blasted away by the orbital strike.

And then the transmission from Frank came, urging them to pull back. He had refused, but Deserk had unexpectedly fired on his Nova Cat, blowing it apart. He had ejected to be snagged by Lee’s Spider and taken to safety.

Deserk had died in the second orbital blast. All that was left of him was his codex bracelet, found in the wreckage of the Black Hawk.

It laid on Des’ table as he stared at it. Beside it were some other items from Deserk’s locker from the dropship Nile, a few letters and some personal souvenirs from past battles.

There was also a small black pouch containing Deserk’s vineers. By clan law, they should be returned to the Bloodname House Leader, to be sacrificed during a private ceremony.

Des did not want to think about that might mean to him.

The one which grabbed his attention most was a letter addressed to him specifically, dated just before the battle. He had tried to ignore it, but it remained stuck in his mind, refusing to budge.

He did not want to touch any of Deserk’s belongings, because he refused to accept the fact that his friend was dead. Years ago, after Luthien, it had not been so bad because there were still many comrades, friends still alive after the fight. But now he was the only warrior of his sibko left, and he had been delighted to find Deserk alive after so many years.

I have lived for too long. Descartin knew he should be dead. He had cheated death too many times for him to remember. He was almost forty years old now, and by winning a bloodname, his genes were already assured of immortality in the gene banks of Clan Nova Cat.

In truth, he had nothing left to live for. Even this last Seeker mission was simply a way for him to accomplish the one thing he had never done, a vision quest.

It was different for Deserk. He could recall the pride in Deserk’s voice as he spoke of his reams and hopes for the future, of raising a family on Outreach. He had everything to live for.

And now he is gone. It was so bitterly unfair, that he, the clan warrior with nothing to live for, no real future to speak of, would be the one to survive, while Deserk, who had a child and a lifetime of happiness awaiting him on Outreach, would be the one to die.

There were too many painful memories for him now. He dreaded every time his mind went back to the past, where many demons lurked. As he got older, past events seemed to lose their luster of glory as friends and comrades were killed one by one.

What good were the glorious days of yesteryear when there was nobody to share them with? All that remained was the terror of combat, the frightened calls for support, the pain of loss after every battle.

Des wanted to cry, to let the tears flow, but strangely, he did not know how to cry. All he could do was to scream in rage at the universe, for the twists of fate that had led to this.

And he had done that so many times for the last few hours that he had no more strength even to get up from his bed.

There was a knock on his door.

“Come in.” He said listlessly. His voice was hoarse and strangled.

Ian Dorlacen entered, wearing a clean jump suit under a brown and fading jacket, in stark contrast to Des, who had not even changed out of his cooling vest.

“It’s morning mess time. That means food.” The mercenary commander said. “Come on out.”

Des stared at him for a while, before replying. “Neg. I am not hungry.”

Ian suddenly shouted, “The heck you are! It’s been more than eight hours since the battle ended, and you’re still here in your vest!”

Des was startled by the outburst, and his eyes simmered with rage. “Leave me alone!”

Ian walked forward and grabbed Des by the front of his cooling vest. He pulled Des off the bed and flung him against a wall. “Wake up! Deserk is dead, and to sit here sulking will not bring him back!”

Des did not even notice the pain of being thrown against the wall as he lashed out at Ian with a punch. Ian drifted backwards as he avoided the blow. He was fresh and rested, whilst Des was not.

“He was my best friend. We grew up together!” Des yelled.

“And so? What would he think of you like this? Dammit, you are a mechwarrior. Act like one!”

Des leaned back against the wall. He was tired of fighting. “You don’t understand what went on out there. I should be the one to die, not him. Not him.” He repeated to himself softly.

“I understand all too well. You aren’t the only one to have lost friends. I have lost too many as well. But that doesn’t mean I get a death wish every time somebody dies!”

Des shook his head. “You did not know what happened out there. He could have retreated, and let me be the one to die. Instead he blasted me out of my mech, and I was the one to live.”

“So you’re angry at him for saving your sorry ass?”

“Maybe.” Des sighed. “Maybe I am also angry at myself for not thinking of blowing him out of his mech first.”

“He was a warrior, first and foremost. He knew the risks, same as you.”

“Then why did he not tell me first? He knew he would die, and yet…”

“No greater love hath one man for another than to lay his life down for his fellow man.” Ian quoted quietly. “Ancient words, but still no less true. He wanted you to live, Star Captain Descartin Winters, and he was prepared to do so at the price of his life.”

“Are you that uncaring, that callous, that you would squander away the gift of life he has bequeathed to you?” Ian asked as he walked to the door.

“Neg.” Des breathed in deeply once, then exhaled out all the air in his lungs, as though trying to expel all the anger, the hurt. He looked up again, feeling a bit better. ”I will be joining you for breakfast in a while. Just let me wash up first.”

He could detect a slight smile on Ian’s face as the merc walked through the open doorway.

“Wait.” Des said just as Ian was about to close the door. “Why are you the one to talk to me?”

“You might not have noticed it, but Yoshino is still technically your subordinate, and too many of the others are too busy with their own tasks to worry about one demoralized clanner. Except me, so that’s why I’m here.”

“Busy? Free?” Des blinked. “I think you have an upcoming duel to worry about, quiaff?”

“Aff. I’m not worried.” Ian grinned easily.

 

Frank was musing over an article from the alien archives in their makeshift medical center when a doctor clad in traditional white coveralls came up to him.

“Sir,” He winced when Frank glared up at him, “Captain Jadine Sheik has woken up from her coma.”

“Don’t call me sir. Right now, I’m just another doctor. Same as you.” Frank continued. “So how is she?”

“To tell the truth, she is raving mad at the moment, demanding to know where she is, what Falcon warriors are doing in the same ward, etc. I think it would be best if you explained everything to her yourself.”

“Yeah, I’ll do that. Thanks.” Frank got up reluctantly, and started walking. The information inside that article was simply too interesting to ignore, as it dealt with the inhibition of metastasis in cancer, something which he had been involved in at the NAIS, while they had been trying to discover a cure for Joshua Marik’s leukemia in 3056.

How to explain the loss of almost her entire company of Dragoons? Frank found himself agonizing over this problem as he walked towards her ward.

There had been many changes since the last of the humans on-world had transferred to the base.

For one, hot baths were finally available, as was fresh water for any number of purposes, where before they were only available in small quantities for drinking.

A few enterprising techs had managed to uncover the commands for the pumps working underground water sources throughout the planet, and managed to get the water routed to their toilets with some hasty plumbing. Some additional configuration of the pipes got the water to the repair bays, where the techs needed them to clean the machines.

Not that Frank, or anybody else, was going to inspect the mechs for parade readiness any time soon. Except the Falcons, come to think of it.

Lizabet Danforth had already begun screaming at her techs to get her mechs up and in peak condition barely four hours after the last enemy drone was destroyed. It had taken several arguments by Star Colonels Colbert Icaza, Fallon Hazen, Mikos Roshak, and Creed Mattlov before she relented.

Frank shook his head. He could never really understand the Falcons. A small number of them were still spoiling for a fight, which Daniela Mattlov explained by noting that these Falcons did not really face the drones in full force, nor taken part in the defense of the ground batteries.

The mercs, on the other hand, were more than happy to find the campaign over, and the alien base offered riches beyond their wildest dreams. A few commanders had privately approached Frank with an interesting proposal though, and he was sorely tempted to accept, after he had run it through Ian Dorlacen and Robert Feehan for their opinions, and they had agreed to it.

Losses had been heavy. The Falcons had suffered 70% equipment damage, and 40% personnel losses. Lizabet Danforth had told him that the entire Rho Galaxy would have to be rotated out of the Occupation Zone for at least two more years for them to recover.

The mercs were just as badly off. Even with the release of former merc bondmen from the Falcons, they had only half of their original strength in personnel, and even less than that in machines, about 30%.

As he approached the ward where Captain Sheik was, he began to hear the sound of people shouting. And it was getting louder the nearer he approached the ward. As he walked into the room, the reason for that became apparent.

Captain Sheik was in a shouting match with a male Falcon warrior who was in the bed beside hers. The cause of his infirmary was immediately obvious from the two leg casts propped up above the foot of his bed.

Two medtechs were trying to stop Sheik from throwing a nearby datapad at the Falcon, while the other occupants of the room looked on in glee and amusement, which puzzled Frank, until he realized from past experience that patients simply enjoyed a good scrap, a familiar sentiment to anyone stuck in a hospital bed, especially warriors.

There was a smatter of applause from the appreciative audience as a particularly vehement exchange of insults took place. It was a cacophony of noise in the ward.

“Stop it!” He spoke loudly and firmly, but actually not expecting any result. “Come on, people, this is a hospital, not a fish market!”

To his chagrin and surprise, they did stop whatever they were doing, and all of them turned to look at him.

He cleared his throat self-consciously. “Okay, fun’s over,” he said as he pulled away the datapad from Sheik’s hand with a strong jerk, took one look at it, and tossed it to a medtech, “now concentrate on getting yourselves healthy again.”

He glanced pointedly at the clanner with broken legs, and the warrior simply turned to the other side to avoid looking at them. Frank sighed audibly.

Jadine looked cross as Frank sat down on a chair beside her bed. “What did you do in the time I was asleep?” She folded her arms.

Here goes nothing. Frank plunged into the whole sequence of events with a grimace.

 

“And that’s it,” he concluded.

She stared at him as though he was crazy.

“Look, it’s the truth! You can ask everyone here in this room if you don’t believe me!” Frank swept his arm around to indicate the ward.

“Ok, assuming you are telling me the truth, what’s going to happen next?”

“Galaxy Commander Lizabet Danforth will take as much of the Star League and alien data as possible when she leaves, in return for an end to our war.”

Jadine shook her head incredulously. “You are giving the Crusaders a technological advantage just like that?”

Frank winced. “It’s not so simple. Many of the stuff has yet to be fully decoded and translated, and even if their scientists could understand the theories, it would years before anyone could start building advanced materials. From Lorik told me, even clan technology is mostly evolutionary, not revolutionary, which means that they wouldn’t be too far ahead of the Inner Sphere in developing the technology.”

“And?” She gestured with a hand, prompting him to continue.

“For the Warden clans, Des Winters will be taking the data back to Clan Goliath Scorpion, so that evens out matters on that side. As for the Successor States, we’ll be selling them the tech, at a hefty price, of course.”

“Of course.” She said, “But what about the merc who wants to go into the open market for himself?”

Frank smiled. “Might not be a problem. Two days from now, we’ll be forming a new merc brigade from all the mercs gathered here.”

“Brigade? How do you think to convince all those mercs out there?”

“Simple. As of right now, we’re the only ones with access to the lost Star League and alien technology. That makes us a monopoly. I’ll prove that my single course credit in economics didn’t go to waste by stating that as the sole source of this tech, we can sell the data at whatever price we want to the Houses, trickle by trickle. They will want to have it, since they all want to be at the forefront of technology.”

“And once one House gets it, the others will want to catch up, so to speak. By jacking up the price as high as we dare to go, we’ll be rich in no time. It’ll be in every merc’s interest to stay with us while we rake in the money, which will be distributed fairly and equally to everybody. They will want to be in.”

She pursed her lips, considering. “There’s one problem with your plan.”

“And what’s that?”

“Spies.” She said plainly. “Did you ever consider the fact that the movement of eight regiments of mercenaries out of the Inner Sphere would go unnoticed?”

“Among these eight regiments, there will be agents of the Houses and god knows what else.” At Frank’s stricken look, she carried on speaking. “These spies will be able to procure the info and pass it back to their masters for free, which defeats your plan.”

Frank looked stupefied for a moment, before he came to his senses again. “So we find those spies. It’s that easy,” he hesitated, “isn’t it?”

She scoffed. “You’re lucky Forsen Mandela cut a deal with the Dragoons. Now pull up the dividers. I don’t want anyone overhearing me.”

Frank did as she asked, and she went on. “I wasn’t sent here just because I was a company commander, but also because I’m Wolfnet. I have files in a secure place that lists the name and allegiance of every agent and spy here, and some narco-interrogation tools in my quarters on the Nile.”

“So in other words, you know who’s a spy and who’s not?”

“Yes. Well, 95 percent sure. I have a plan for ferreting out the rest, don’t worry.”

A thought struck Frank. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because you seem to be someone the Dragoons can do business with. I won’t be too wrong if I say that if this merc brigade idea of yours takes off, you’ll be in a pretty high position, maybe even CO of this whole thing, right?”

“Nope, you won’t be too wrong. But Commanding Officer will be a bit too much for me, right now.”

“And there’re other reasons for forming this merc brigade that you haven’t told me yet. Be honest. The Dragoons want to know.”

Frank shrugged his shoulders. “Sure. One is to protect this world as well, since it’s gonna be our golden goose. The more important reason is to study up on the guys that beat the original aliens, and hopefully help defend humanity when the time comes.”

“You don’t think small, do you?” She laughed. “What you’re proposing is exactly what the Dragoons were sent to the Inner Sphere to accomplish years ago!”

“The Dragoons will stand with your mercs in this endeavor, for a price, that is.”

Frank understood instantly. “You also want a copy of the data. No problem, since that was in your original agreement with Forsen.”

“Good. We’ll go back to Outreach when the spy issue is settled. You will be holding your troops here, right?”

Frank nodded. “Only a few people will be going back to Outreach. Or at least, that’s what I’m planning. Most of the mercs will stay here to refit their machines and train. I’m thinking of trading for food supplies from nearby inhabited worlds.”

“Which are crawling with pirates.”

“I’ve a plan for that too.” He leaned in close, and whispered sotto voce. “Let’s just say the advanced fighters aren’t the only good stuff the aliens left us. I’ve got something that the Falcons don’t know we have. And that makes us one heck of a merc unit from the very start.”

 

Climbing up the side of his refitted Awesome, Ian felt relaxed in the warm afternoon sun as he entered his cockpit.

True to her word, Daniela had gotten some of her techs to fix up his Awesome with clan tech. Ian had accepted the 320-rated XL engine, salvaged from a Dragonfly, two clan tech PPCs, a clan ER small laser, and enough clan type double heat sinks to outfit the mech.

Plus one very special Inner Sphere weapon, placed in his right torso.

He started up the mech without any difficulty, and it was soon eating up the ground in huge strides, walking towards the Circle of Equals for the mech duel.

Two mechs from his Lancers accompanied him, while a whole lot of people were already waiting around the circle, all of them behind the invisible shield that Lorik had set up around the arena with a shield generator, after some judicious stripping of a ground battery to remove the generator.

Stalls of food could be seen behind the shields, heaped with cans of rations and even some plates of cooked meats, which could only be the result of some hungry mercs taking advantage of the natural fauna. Ian’s mouth watered as he ran his scanners over the tables.

Off to one side, Des’ Harbinger Tina was holding a rapt audience captive with her music, while a few crazy techs were carrying out acts more suited for a circus, performing to a mass of people which included even some Falcons hungrily munching on meat sticks.

It almost felt like a carnival.

Daniela’s Masakari was already waiting for him inside the shielded area, and as he walked up to the edge of the arena, the shield dropped temporarily for him to enter.

Their mechs faced off against each other, with more than a kilometer between them, within the two kilometer diameter arena. Ian quickly drove all thoughts of food out of his mind, as he got into his warrior mindset.

“This is Galaxy Commander Lizabet Danforth!” A loudspeaker blared out. “This is a Trial Of Grievance between Major Ian and Star Captain Daniela Mattlov!”

Not exactly a Trial of Grievance. Ian also noted sourly that she omitted his surname. Not that it was his real name, but still…

“Warriors, you are free to engage!”

Ian started his mech running forward, firing off his PPCs at extreme range as he did so. The two ER PPC poured out damage equivalent to three of his old Inner Sphere versions. One shot hit, slashing a gash in the Masakari’s right leg.

Surprisingly, Daniela did not open fire, instead sprinting towards him. Ian checked his computer quickly, trying to assess her mech’s configuration.

The computer came up with a pulse laser boat with a targeting computer, which Ian groaned at. She certainly wasn’t going to take any chances, sacrificing some range for the ability to confirm a strike, and even to target locations once the fighting got close.

He backpedaled the Awesome, trying to keep the range while lighting off with his PPCs constantly. He would only get one more free salvo off before she could use her large pulse lasers in reply. Another PPC hit the Masakari right in the middle, but it had more than enough armor there to spare.

She got into range, and fired off with all four of her large pulse lasers. Ian cursed as three of the shots hit, two of them punching into his right arm, and the other into his left arm.

His next salvo of PPCs missed completely, while Daniela continued carving into his mech, the right arm stripped bare of armor and exposing the PPC to damage. An idea occurred to Ian.

He lowered the right arm, hoping to lure her into thinking that his right arm PPC was destroyed, and continued to fire only his left torso PPC. It hit on the next discharge, reducing her center torso armor to tatters.

He ran forward as she started working on his left torso, using aimed shots to remove his left torso PPC from the fight. The armor on that location was completely stripped away, but the PPC was not hurt, and Ian managed to keep his mech up and moving, despite the loss of almost two tons of armor.

She stepped the Masakari forward as well, ready to end the fight with some well placed shots to his Awesome. Ian had other ideas.

He fired the heavy gauss rifle he had held in reserve so far, the heavy nickel iron shell streaking from the barrel in the right torso to smash into the Masakari, in one instant crushing the remaining center torso armor to nothing, and digging deep into the internals. Several puffs of smoke poured out of the gaping middle of the tottering mech, while a grinding sound could be heard, indicating gyro damage.

Ian followed up by bringing up his right arm PPC and whipping both PPCs into her mech, the particle beams stabbing into her right leg, snapping it at the bone.

She fired back before her right leg gave way, the blue energy darts seeking out his exposed left torso, but Ian foiled her move by torso twisting to his left, letting her shots play over his center and right torso, reducing most of the armor there into ruin even as her mech collapsed onto the hot ground.

He twisted his torso back, and trudged over to her mech. He lowered his guns to her prone mech, and spoke through his speakers.

“Yield, quiaff?”

“Aff, I yield.” She replied breathlessly, the air knocked out of her lungs when the Masakari fell.

As Ian looked around, he noticed dozens of spectators tuning out of the fight and going back to having fun and food. He wanted to feel offended, but found he couldn’t work up the anger, nor even some irritation. He smiled ruefully.

Sure is nice to be able to relax, he thought. It had been a grueling campaign, and the impromptu carnival was an excellent way for them to rest and enjoy life after the taut tension of the past few days.

He started thinking about parking his mech in a spot nearby so he could participate in the fun as well, and hopefully drag Daniela along. Hey, he thought to himself,  the fighting’s over, right?