"Operations" Part 2

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• Date: July 14, 3029
• Planet: [Classified]
• Location: Leopard-Class DropShip 'Shadowfox', 'Mech Deck

Mikell was standing next to the BattleMaster, watching the diagnostic program running; he almost wished he'd brought Louis along, but he was not ignorant about computers. This was just going to be his first actual combat mission in a BattleMech, and he wanted to be certain everything was going right. He heard someone walking up behind him, and looked up. "Aubrey."

"Sir?" Aubrey hesitated before speaking up. "A word with you?"

"Make it fast." Mikell leaned over the side of the walkway to call down to the technicians below. "What's going on the Parti-Kill PPC?"

"Sorry sir, we had to disconnect it while doing our maintenance checks. I guess someone forgot to reconnect it. We'll get right on it."

"I can't afford delays, we're already risking being noticed by traffic control. Get on it." He turned back and looked to Aubrey. "You were saying?"

The younger man hesitated again, then spoke softly. "Sir, you shouldn't be deploying on this mission."

"You're right, I should be in my room with a glass of fine wine and a good book." Mikell smirked and sighed. "They could have a solid defense. The BattleMaster is pretty handy at breaking up defenses at range, coupled with the Warhammer. So, that means me." He returned to reading the data and scrolling through the mess of words.

Aubrey didn't seem to take the hint he should move on, and looked around before leaning in. "Well, no, I mean what if you get hurt out there? Or killed? Then who leads the Company?"

Mikell fought down an annoyed look at that, as he really didn't want to be thinking about the potential of death on his first mission. It made him feel queasy, and he needed to at least appear to have it all together. "Then I suppose Olivia and Reginald will dice for it. So long as he remembers she has that loaded set from Tharkad."

Aubrey stepped back, frowning at the levity. "That's not funny, sir."

"It was, the first time I confiscated them. Now it's just getting tiresome, but eventually people will learn to stop accepting her offer to roll for it."

"I mean, talking about your death like that. It shouldn't be done."

Mikell stepped back from the station and stared at him for a moment, lowering his voice. "Aubrey, everyone dies. Every mercenary, every soldier, everyone who has a job which puts them in the line of fire runs the risk of being killed in a spectacularly bad piece of luck." He folded his arms and stared the other man in the eyes. "If you don't believe you're going to die, then you're likely the next one on the list. If you're afraid of dying, then it means you could freeze up at a time when it's important."

"You are talking about getting killed for being too scared of dying?"

"No, that's bad but there's worse." He poked Aubrey in the chest firmly. "Being too scared to die when someone else is going to die because you aren't acting." The younger man looked puzzled, and Mikell shook his head. "That's why I'm going. Well, one reason. There's a more important one."

"Sir?"

He motioned Aubrey in close, then leaned inwards and sucked in a breath. "Because it's not your damn 'Mech, now go report to Elaine over in 'Mech bay four to see if she needs you to degrease something."

As the young man wandered away, Mikell looked around and saw a trio of techs walking to the right arm with toolkits and opening up part of the arm mount for the PPC. He read the rest of the report and then walked away, off towards Olivia who was looking over her cooling vest and leaving her uniform in a box nearby. Mikell always hated this about the cockpits, too warm to sit in with any dignified clothing. At least nobody bothered Olivia. "Are you ready?"

She didn't even look up. "Nope. Still have to check the fire control calibrations in the cockpit."

"I did tell them to load half loads, for the guns."

She shrugged a shoulder, and frowned before checking some of the connectors on the vest. "Because you don't want to have to keep checking your drinks."

"Because we will need your long-range gear more than your close-range gear. If there's infantry we need to regroup."

"We won't get another shot at this. Can't regroup." She straightened up. "Shouldn't you be inspecting your own gear?"

He made a tossing gesture with a hand, looking over his shoulder. "Done it. They're having to deal with a small error. Everything else is in order."

"Then go bother Reginald." She waved her hand, and Mikell shrugged to wander off.

As he approached Reginald, who was at least in the cooling vest and now was checking a sidearm over, the other man spoke up softly. "If you start talking to me I am going to test-fire this into your foot."

"Okay, nevermind then."

He set the pistol down and turned to give Mikell a stern look. "Stop being nervous and do pushups or something. Get the energy out of you before you get in your 'Mech."

"What do I have to be nervous about? We are dropping into a forested area at night with no idea what the Davion forces have out there."

"Yep." Reginald picked up the pistol and loaded the magazine. "You need to start moving along now."

And Mikell did, the last member of the foursome was sitting on a storage container and breathing slow and long breaths. Kelly had her eyes closed, and seemed to be either meditating or sleeping. "You doing fine?" Mikell asked, and she shook her head. "If you need something-"

She shook her head twice. "No. Just let me, ah, think this out."

Mikell nodded and wandered back towards the BattleMaster, only to find someone else standing there. He paused, trying to remember her name, having brought her on before leaving Twycross. "Janice?" The woman nodded once, and looked down at the deck below. "What's going on?"

"You asked me to keep an eye out. So I did. Here's the information." She handed him a folded piece of paper. "Now, how about that proposition I made for you. I'd like to start looking for recruits, if you don't mind?"

He took the slip and tucked it into his palm. "Granted. Go into town before the mission with the others and see what you can get together." She nodded, and gave a vague salute before she walked off. He noticed the technicians leaving the other side and leaned on the railing. "What's the deal now, folks?"

"We're finished here. Until we can get more time to really give it a good job, try not to overuse the PPC. Its heat exchange seems to be acting up, probably from the custom connectors put in place. We'll get a chance to work on it once you get back to Salmacis." The techs smiled and walked off, as Mikell climbed into the cockpit. He paused and opened the slip of paper, seeing a list of names on it. Some he expected to see, some he didn't, but it was not surprising to see the number of them.

He couldn't really think on that right this moment, though. He began to turn on systems, reaching to set the neurohelmet into position, and checking to make sure everything moved as it was supposed to. At his left side was the communications panel, and a set of selection switches which would allow him to quickly cycle through up to twelve channels. One of them marked "External", one "Open Broadcast", a third marked "Squad Comm. #1", and the rest having "Not Defined By User" showing up with a number. He should have really been dealing with this earlier, now he knew he'd have to on the return trip. He turned it to the squad channel, then looked around again to see the center panel showing a sensor map which seemed to be set up to show distance of active targets in a cone in front of him. A toggle made it something of a quadrant grid divided into ahead, behind, left, and right. He turned his head as much as the neurohelmet allowed to see the weapon selection toggles for the fire control system, and pressed each one to make sure it flipped; they gave a satisfyingly firm 'clunk' for each one.

As the system kept booting up, he stopped to notice displays flashing to life on the neurohelmet's faceplate. First there were peripheral vision cameras, feeding to those places since the helmet obstructed his ability to look. Secondly, if he rolled his eyes to the top left he saw the listing for each unit as defined by the ones who had set the system up. Lastly, there was a visual representation at the lower-right for the state of the BattleMaster's armor and systems. Briefly focused thoughts let him focus, see which systems were still active.

The other three members of the Lance soon had icons appear at their identifiers in the corner, and he quietly touched the comm system toggle to speak. "Comm check, Sagittarius Lance."

He noticed, unlike the training pods he'd been in, there was a video image which flickered in the lower-left of the helmet's display as Olivia's comm opened up. "Warhammer's green."

"Orion ready." Reginald said, his neurohelmet slightly different in design, but the voice was all Mikell needed.

"Valkyrie is green, ready." Kelly's voice wavered slightly before she spoke up again. "Everything's fine here."

"Okay, good. We will be marching down the valley, trying to keep out of sight. If they have active sensors, we won't be able to hide but if they're being lazy on a Friday night then we can catch them unaware until we're close enough to begin firing. Do not climb any higher than twenty meters, and do not get ahead of us, Kelly."

"Why me?"

"Because you're faster than us." Reginald answered. "The three of us have roughly the same speed, you're faster by a good margin."

"Not fair."

"Them's the breaks, kid." Olivia said lightly, as she was cycling through her systems. "Boss, got a fire control bug I think. Small Lasers are giving me a caution light, something about calibration errors. Didn't Louis work on these?"

"And then we had thirteen jumps in quick succession so we could get here quickly." Mikell replied. "Guess something got knocked loose. We only brought one team with us this time." He glanced over everything. "Sagittarius Lance. Reginald, you're Two, and you have the armor to take point with me when we start fighting. Olivia, Three. You're on support and suppression if you see turrets. Kelly, Four. If you see someone trying to make a run for it, do your best to cut them off. Until then, you're on suppression with Olivia with your missiles. Do not engage anything heavier than you."

He took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment. There was a series of loud clunks, then whirring of motors as the 'Mech bay doors opened to the world outside. "Sagittarius Lance, move out."

---

• 22:02 Local Time
• Location: [Redacted] Pub

The pub was normally just a tourist attraction, but it was currently occupied by a couple dozen mercenaries who were either in uniform or a casual outfit. The bartenders were cleaning up, but they were more on edge with this many people here whose professions depended on trouble. It was an unspoken question among the staff, whether the mercs were present because they were just passing through and getting shore leave . . . or was trouble about to happen? The owner had made a discreet call two hours ago to the local garrison and they had watchers posted outside in what they thought were discreet vehicles to watch the exterior of the pub. Of course, all of that was part of Priam Company's plan; if the garrison was this concerned about rowdy mercenaries, they weren't concerned about anything going on outside of town.

And a couple hundred C-Bills in tips to the bartenders at the start, along with a promise to not break anything, was helping them at least not be too unsettled.

Casey wandered back to the corner booth with three mugs in each hand, smirking at the other 'MechWarriors sharing it with her. Vandal, Simone, and Otto were waiting there, and only Otto looked preoccupied. Vandal looked up as she set down the mugs. "It's amazing, I never thought they'd go with wood mugs here." He said, pulling one towards him and sniffing.

"Something about tourist trap charm. They also have pewter with glass bottom."

"Pass." He took a drink. "At least they didn't water it down." He glanced over the other five mugs in the center of the table. "Did you get too many on accident?"

"Nope. Because you asked, you don't get an extra this round." She plopped into the booth, and grinned at him. He simply made a vague gesture, and took a deeper sip. "Otto, you are not drinking. We are paying, you know, not you. If you sit out a second round I'm going to consider it an insult and react accordingly."

Simone leaned over from across the booth. "You know the commander said if we get thrown in lockup we become permanent residents."

"They can't lock up what they can't catch!"

"I'm pretty sure they can outrun you."

"But can they outfight me?"

"Not gonna lay odds on that one." Vandal said lightly, and looked to Otto, who was sullenly staring into his mug. "I swear, Otto, you're bringing down the mood here and I don't like that."

Casey flicked her eyes to Vandal from under her blonde bangs before looking at Otto. "You're worried about the others." He shrugged a shoulder, and she frowned. "Oh, no, please don't tell me this is a macho thing. Please. I would have to throw up."

"Look, we were hired to fight, and we're in a bar partying."

Simone looked around the pub, then back at Otto. "Technically, it's a pub." She said after a moment. "They don't like being called bars, when they go out of the way to put it even on the damn coasters." She took one of the paper coasters and flicked it off his cheek. He flinched, and glared briefly at her before her hand squeezed on his knee painfully. "I didn't get to go either. I thought they'd let me go, and here I am. Guess they really want to give me a night off."

"With your girlfriend?" Vandal quipped across the table, then flinched as Casey pushed her heel into his foot. "Hey!"

"I mean, do they really think we're worth it if they just sideline us-"

"Friend, you are looking at this from the wrong angle." Simone smirked at him. "We're an important part of the operation. You still don't get it do you?" She flicked a finger to gesture around. "This is the camouflage. Take another look around." She squinted at the room. "Hey, Gail's in the restroom right?" Casey looked around as well and nodded. "Twenty people here. The four of us, fourteen techs, one of the nurses, and Jade."

"Why is she here?"

Simone dug her thumb into his ribs, twisting with each word. "Don't. Change. The. Subject." She inhaled and looked at him. "Our important deal is making twenty people seem like a lot more, and make ourselves known to be here partying. Local responders should be well aware they got offworld mercenaries getting toasted in town and have people prepared in case we get rowdy. Of course, we're all under orders not to do anything like that, only make it look like it's about two drinks and a spilled pint away from a bar brawl."

Otto corrected her immediately. "Pub brawl."

"Nobody brawls in pubs, man. Too classy." Casey quipped, and leaned back as she drained her mug. "Reminds me." She turned her head and shifted out of the booth. "Hey! Jade! Yeah, you with the ponytail and the cocktail! What're you drinking?"

She looked down, then at Casey, and rolled her eyes. "Not telling. You want one?"

"No, I learned my lesson." She leaned back into the booth and settled back. "Jade's a weird choice, yes. She has drinks which seem to somehow contain more than 200 proof, but taste like fruit juice. I swear she's like an inspiration to the alcoholics of the Commonwealth, because she also almost never appears drunk. Walks it off like a champ while you're wondering where your feet went."

"And this has-"

"Shut up, the adults are talking." Casey continued. "But there's another reason she's here, and that depends on if you're asking about here in the bar or here with the outfit." Her eyes focused on Otto. "She works with encryptions, our encryptions and others. She is the one who fixes the computers when they decide two and two equals five." She glances around to Vandal, who simply shrugs. "She's also here keeping an eye on everyone and reporting back to Cordova."

"I thought that's why you have your earpiece in." Otto murmured, tapping his ear; Casey smirked and shook her hair to cover the comm in her ear.

"Oh? That? No, that's because I'm keeping an eye out for if the local police or militia decide to make a mess." She took a long drink from the mug before her and slid it to the center of the table before taking another. "Never have just one person keeping an eye on things, Otto. Eseptically when they're drinking."

"You just said eseptically."

"No I didn't."

Otto narrowed his eyes and looked to Simone. "So we're like, the distraction, okay. Why then bring us and not the fr-" Abruptly two sets of eyes pinned him to the seat and his voice caught in his throat. "Not Kelly?"

"Oooh, you are lucky you caught that." Casey muttered before drinking again.

"Not our call." Vandal said, studying his fingernails. He was halfway through his pint, and steadily working through it like with the last round. "It's the commander's call. He has considerations we don't when making the assignments. We could guess all day, but only he knows for sure. And one part of our jobs is not to question him when he makes those decisions, only to make damn certain we do our parts to the best of our abilities."

Casey heard a slight buzz in her ear, signaling the comm coming online. "White. Cordova. Message from command. They've got the chicken, we're sending the fox. One hour."

She touched her ear briefly, and murmured in the practiced subvocal range. "Cordova, White, we copy." She made a show of checking her wrist and then standing up. "Priam Company!" Eyes turned and she lifted her mug. "Last call, folks, curfew waits for no man or lady!"

There was a shared laugh, as Jade quietly reached into her pocket and began counting C-Bill notes. One of the techs spoke up amidst the laughter. "Who called you a lady? That's a slander on ladies!"

She showed him exactly one finger, making the laughter resume. "Olly! If I wasn't impressed with the leaded glass, I'd put you through the window!" She laughed, and sat back down heavily. She dropped the big grin as she looked back to the table. "They got it, we need to be lifting in an hour. Vandal, you and Otto grab two techs and start headed back. Otto, since you can't seem to let yourself drink you get to be the designated sober guy and everyone else are the drunken tourist mercenaries."

"Yeah, yeah, here to see a guy about a 'Mech. Funny thing. Vandal?" The older man raised an eyebrow. "You ever hear of a company called RMP?"

"Nope. Why?"

"Me either, but that's who made that Locust. And it wasn't in terrible shape for being as old as it was. The serial number and service record Jade found said-"

"We're not interested in the Locust." Casey muttered.

"I'm interested in it now. It's weird."

"Then you can have that as your first 'Mech. Come on." Vandal kicked him under the table, and then Casey slid to let him out of the booth. "We gotta get moving, we're on the clock now."