"It All Began With..." (Part 1)

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• Date: October 23, 3028; 09:35 Local Time
• Planet: Twycross
• Location: Trellshire Heavy Industries, Office of Hauptmann Keating

The planet of Twycross was known for its remarkably wild weather patterns, with dust storms scouring the surface in many places, and for being unremarkable except for the industries settled here. The Lyran Commonwealth had settled it many centuries ago, and on discovering the atmosphere was "fine" they chose to push settlements into digging underground and expanding through tunnel systems rather than roads or sprawls on the surface. Buildings which stood on the surface tended to be heavily reinforced to withstand the storms or designed so wind would flow over them instead. Resources for further development were largely directed to several of the factories on the planet, and the planetary government kept the people relatively safe despite raids from across the Draconis Combine border.

The important part was the word "relatively", thought Mikell Sethan as he sat in the waiting room and let his mind wander. Two months ago a Lyran raid across the border met with unmistakable failure, and the Draconis Combine chased the withdrawing forces to Twycross. Only after a tight defense was the counterattack pushed away, By making victory too expensive for the Combine, the Lyran forces kept Twycross safe for now. Mikell fidgeted and his hand went to his trouser thigh; under it was a bandage from a minor wound he'd suffered trying to be useful on a forward observer post. He never wanted to think his actions were instrumental in turning the tide, but someone had begun insisting it lately. The unease in his stomach was from knowing how the Lyran Commonwealth Armed Forces operated; he was either about to be offered a promotion and thrown into an offensive campaign or he would be made a very public scapegoat for any setbacks which followed the battle.

"Private Sethan?" The voice came from the door into the inner office. "The Hauptmann will see you now.

"Thank you." He stood, wincing a bit as the wound ached. On the other side, the office was appointed in dark-grained wood and glass with video screens to give the illusion of a surface-side office in a better place than Twycross, with more blue sky and foliage. The Hauptmann sat behind a desk, two aides with him looking at Mikell as he approached. "Private Sethan reporting, sir."

The Hauptmann looked up briefly, eyes sliding over antique spectacles which lent him an air of polish. Mikell wasn't fooled, having seen the trick several times by now. "Have a seat." He pointed with a stylus, and returned to signing on a stack of datapads for several long breaths. "I understand you were in the militia forces assigned to the forward vanguard?" Mikell simply nodded, which caused the Hauptmann to stop and look at him steadily. "I'm sorry, you were assigned to the vanguard?" The tone hardened a shade, the eyes intent.

"Yes, sir. Assigned to Crew 553, with a Scimitar Medium Hover Tank."

"What were your responsibilities on the crew, Private?"

"Driver and spotter, sir." He hesitated, then continued unbidden. "I also worked with the ground crews to ensure they affected repairs using authorized replacement parts and methods."

The current datapad was set down on the desk, the lips of the Hauptmann tightening slightly into something not quite a smirk. "I don't believe, Private, that falls under your responsibilities."

"Not at all, sir, but the first time they replaced parts with Quickscell Certified Pre-owned parts we had a minor bit of trouble preventing a sideslip when going over terrain." Mikell glanced to the aides, who wouldn't meet his eyes. "There was a bit of a mess on the inside. After that, we wanted to never have to do that again."

"Use authorized parts for repair?"

Mikell shook his head slowly. "Clean up the interior, because we couldn't maintain control of the stabilizers. Sir."

The Hauptmann leaned back, letting out a slow breath and drumming the stylus tip on the desktop for a few moments. Then the silence stretched on for another long period before he spoke up in a softer, quieter tone. "Do you know what my responsibilities are here, Private?" Without waiting for a reply, he began speaking and leaned forward slightly as if to invite a sense of conspiracy. "I am assigned as the Armed Forces liaison with the Tamar March Militia unit on Twycross, and that means your actions reflect on me. All of them." He glanced to one pad set aside from the other stack. "According to this, you took part in an unauthorized attack action while serving with Crew 553. Evidence shows you sent targeting data to a Lance of BattleMechs who were also out of position, so they could fire long-range missile salvos into a dust storm. Am I correct?"

"Not quite, sir, but the error must be in the report. We were contacted by First Leutnant Reginald Brand to please assist, in the absence of any other current orders at that time. I was ordered to move our Scimitar to comply."

"Hmm." Another pause. "At which point your gunner engaged an enemy BattleMech to keep it pinned down for a salvo." He glanced to the datapad. "This was a Jenner, a Light-class BattleMech notoriously elusive and more than a match for your vehicle. Do you think this was a good idea?"

"I was ordered to do it, sir, and the gunner position was not mine. I only made sure we were as hard to hit as possible."

"And sent targeting data to a friendly Lance."

"Yes, sir, and sent targeting data to the requested comm channel."

The one aide on the Hauptmann's left spoke up. "Your commander was not authorized to detach from his unit and perform this action." She looked down to the seated Hauptmann, who tilted his head in her general direction, signaling agreement.

"With all due respect, ma'am, that decision is above my authority to question or countermand."

"The action, and the subsequent event also helped the Delta Lance of the First Lyran Regulars fold the flank in and stall out the offensive. First Leutnant Brand was cited as one of the Lance Commanders responsible for making it happen." She shook her head. "They made it out losing one 'Mech and two MechWarriors, thankfully with one 'Mech being capable of being repaired after the damage to the head. It's just finished getting through repairs, and Delta Lance is almost ready to be up to full strength again."

"That is good, ma'am, but that doesn't explain why I am here being questioned. The battle was two months ago and the debrief was rather thorough. Nor do I see a point to telling me about their unit roster."

"Private Mikell Sethan." The aide on the other side removed a datapad from behind his back to look at, reading from. "Enlisted in the LCAF to serve with the Tamar March Militia after graduating from the Blackjack School of Conflict." A twitch of the eyebrow followed the name of the institute; Mikell knew what the officers in the Armed Forces thought about the reputation of the School of Conflict. Many considered it a barely-legal school which trained soldiers to be more troublesome for their commanders, while the veterans and seasoned commanders found graduates to be more flexible and capable of reacting without needing micro-management. The twitch told Mikell all he needed to know about where this man fell on the spectrum. Mikell focused his attention back on the words recounting his records, apparently just in time. ". . . apparently false identity and credentials, leads me to question whether or not your school record is also faked. Eighty-fourth percentile, Private?"

"Sir, if that is what it says, that is what I was placed in."

"You didn't take officer training, despite being qualified for it by falling above the eightieth percentile?"

"I did not, sir."

"Why?"

"I was not interested in it at the time, sir, I was more interested in being deployed as far away from Terra as possible."

The Hauptmann lifted fingers to cut off his aide. "Why is that, Private?"

"It is a personal matter, sir.

"I would like to know."

Mikell glanced between the three people, then focused on the Hauptmann again. "I'm sorry, sir, but it is a personal matter. Is there some question of my credentials?" The officer shook his head slowly. "Is there a question you wish to raise of my identity, sir?" Another slow head shake. "With all due respect, why am I here, sir?"

"We are looking for people who may be of use to the Forces, above their current rank. An immediate promotion, and redeployment to training with your new unit." The Hauptmann leaned back again. "Naturally, there are no more details until I know where you stand on this. What do you think?"

"Is it with the Tamar March Militia, sir?"

"No."

"Then I am not interested, sir. I apologize for wasting your time." Mikell moved to stand.

"You have not been dismissed, Private Sethan." The male aide said sharply. "If that is who you are."

Mikell still didn't sit back down. "I do not know who else I would be, sir."

"You are demonstrating insubordination, Private."

Mikell pursed his lips and glanced over the aide slowly. "You aren't identified as part of my command structure, ah, Leutnant. My commander is First Leutnant Nigel Bloom. If this is a discipline hearing, he should be present."

"This is not a discipline hearing, Private. Please sit down."

"My apologies, but the good Hauptmann made a request of me and I refused. It was not an order, sir, I have to follow."

A sharper and angrier tone now. "Please sit down. That is an order."

"As I said, sir, with all due respect you are not part of my command structure. You are with the First." The aide glanced to his unit markings and back again. "The honorable Hauptmann is a liaison to the March Militia, but my command goes through First Leutnant Nigel Bloom and then to Hauptmann Leon Cross."

"Sit down or-"

The Hauptmann lifted his hand to cut this off, and then sighed audibly, drumming the stylus on the desktop again. "You are technically correct in all of this, of course. Though you should show some deference and respect for the officers in this room despite where your chain of command falls."

"If that is your opinion, sir, I won't argue."

"It would seem you just did."

". . . no, sir, I merely was being respectful."

The Hauptmann now frowned and folded his hands in his lap. "What is it you want, Private? Why enlist with us? Your demeanor suggests you would be far happier signing on with a mercenary outfit like Wolf's Dragoons or the Eridani Light Horse. Just for an example."

"Or any number of smaller outfits." The female aide spoke up softly. "They'd likely be able to use you."

"I've not trained in a BattleMech, ma'am, and my expertise is lacking beyond pointing the tank and telling it where to go."

The Hauptmann picked up the pad set aside. "Your commander said in his debriefing you had voiced support of the action your Scimitar crew took. Your gunner also agreed you had pointed out it was better than, to quote." He glanced to the pad. "Being sitting quail waiting for the enemy to figure out you were a soft target." He set the pad back down, looking back to Mikell. "It would seem you do have some expertise, and your records from the School of Conflict suggest this isn't far from the truth."

"You have no practical combat experience, Private Sethan, but you have placed highly when in simulated exercises." The woman began speaking again. "We would be willing to promote you and see about getting you trained in using a BattleMech."

"I'm not sure what good that would do, ma'am."

"Your records suggest you were within acceptable skill levels in BattleMechs of Medium and Heavy weight classes. Do you mean to tell us this is mistaken?"

"Ma'am, I mean to tell you I've never been in an actual BattleMech. Only training on a Chameleon and Thunderbolt in simulation." He paused and sat back down, the pain in his thigh a little too great to keep making a show of standing. "You are suggesting you would not merely promote me, but move me into a machine I've never actually been in."

"Quite true, Private." The Hauptmann broke in again, nodding slowly. "But you would be attached to an officer who would be able and willing to train you before combat deployment. You would be fast-tracked into a BattleMech on an active lance to have combat experience before being put into more rigorous training for a leadership role. I think you may be able to make a fine lance leader." He spread his hands. "And there is an opening for you, a BattleMech which would be assigned to you for training purposes tomorrow should you accept."

"I still would like to decline, sirs, ma'am."

"A BattleMech? You would decline?"

"It would mean leaving the Tamar March Militia, so, yes. I would like to decline."

The trio seemed even more focused on him, as Mikell pondered the reasons he wouldn't want to draw more attention to himself. He didn't feel like seeing ghosts of his youth come up again so soon, and undoubtedly if he stood out too much they would find a reason to come calling with requests for "small favors" which never would stop. At least if he was a tank crew member, he was beneath notice and not quite as easy a target as infantry. Or as likely to be wasted.

"Why is it you wish to stay with the militia, Mikell?" The Hauptmann asked softly. "You can tell me, and I'll keep your confidence."

"Sir, I wouldn't like to say."

"They don't want you back." The male aide said after a brief glance from the Hauptmann. "They intend to discharge you once your medical leave is up. What we're offering is a means of staying in the service."

"Discharge me?"

"Insubordination and failure to follow orders." The Hauptmann said slowly, pointing the stylus at the stack of datapads on his left. "Much like yourself, Private, they intend to not make any noise and stand out too much. Crew 553 is being broken up, and the commander is being promoted to run a patrol group. Trellshire Heavy Industries, on the other hand, is very grateful for those who defended them and has seen about offering refurbished BattleMechs to bolster their equipment after the action left many heavily damaged or out of combat."

"But with you being discharged, all you'll have is nothing but a handshake and a 'thank you for doing your part'." The woman spoke up. "When you could skip around that, and move up to the Forces proper."

Mikell paused, and then held up his hands. "I'm sorry if I seem ungrateful, sirs and ma'am. But it's just a bit much. Can I have a day to think on it, please?"

They exchanged looks briefly, before the Hauptmann stood up from behind the desk. Reflex kicked in, Mikell standing just a short bit ahead of him despite the flare of ache from his thigh. "Take your time for a day. Feel free to speak with any of our MechWarriors, Private, and see what they can tell you about serving with us. We do want you to join us, as you seem quite capable." After shaking the younger man's hand, he sat back down, adjusting his spectacles. "You are dismissed."

Mikell turned, and left, glancing over a shoulder once outside the office. This wasn't what he'd been hoping for when he started this path, and if he moved ahead with this there was a much greater chance he'd be noticed. If he was going to be noticed, then he'd prefer to be more in control of situations and not at the mercy of someone ordering him around. The thought made him pause, and then move aside in the tunnel so he wasn't in the middle. Did he really dare to take this train of thought a step further? There were real consequences if he pulled other people into anything, after all, even if they chose to. He might even be able to call in favors and make it work, but doing so would definitely cost him resources he couldn't easily replenish. One thing was for certain, though, if he told Hauptmann Keating no he wouldn't have any protection anymore.

"What time is it, anyway?" He asked himself aloud, blinking as he realized he hadn't yet eaten today. He detoured towards the mess hall for the complex, shaking his head. "I know I'm tired, I just asked myself a question and answered it."