"It All Began With..." (Part 11)

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• Date: June 15, 3029
• Planet: Twycross
• Location: Salmacis Base, Briefing Room

Mikell was sitting in the briefing room and set the dossiers on the table, thumbing through the physical copies carefully. He'd found some time ago this was entirely unnecessary, but the pageantry did have a notable effect on people. It seemed to unnerve them when they could see a folder with what was apparently data in it, even if it turned out to be nothing but blank papers. His instructors at the Blackjack School of Conflict had even fallen for that particular trick, and he'd been pulled aside to be told 'it was an old but good trick, well-executed'. Since then he'd found it useful for another goal - to see how people reacted, and gauge them from that.

Reginald was standing near the door, wearing the uniform Olivia had commissioned based on the notes. Dark blue slacks and shirt, with a white stripe down the right arm and leg, along the seam. There was only a vague rank insignia, since Mikell never had set up a rank structure per se; his was a four-pointed star on an epaulet loop, while Reginald and Olivia wore a slightly raised triangle. Everyone else had gotten a single round pip in the place, enameled with different colors to denote what department they were in.

"So, let's see. We have two people today, Otto Greene and Paul Draven." He looked at the dossiers and frowned. "We had Raskin cancel for some reason, maybe he realized where we were and decided it wasn't worth his time."

"I'm not going to begin to guess. Let's get Greene in here first, okay?"

"Of course." He opened the door and looked out into the hallway. "We would like to speak to 'MechWarrior Greene first." A brown-haired young man walked in, wearing a gray jacket and looking nervously at Reginald before sitting down in the chair before it could be offered. Mikell kept his expression still, though he wanted to raise an eyebrow at the presumption. Reginald simply stood next to the door at parade rest, hands behind his back and face impassive.

"I'm Mikell Sethan, Commander of Priam Company. Welcome to Salmacis Base, 'MechWarrior Greene. We're here to determine if you would make a good addition to our unit." He glanced into the dossier and noticed Otto abruptly fidgeted; indeed, he did have much to be nervous for but it was more telling to see his reaction. "We are looking for good talent, and while your marks were not excellent you show promise. However, your behavior towards your superiors has me concerned. Several times you are recognized for disobeying orders outright or arguing them over unit channels. And there was a specific note about one case where you had brought up interesting implications of the ancestry of one Training Instructor I won't repeat."

"Heh." Otto chuckled, smirking a bit to himself. Reginald, unseen to Otto, rolled his eyes as Mikell simply kept his gaze level until the smirk faded. "Sorry, sir."

"Thank you. We may be mercenaries, but we try to keep a professional air here." He folded his hands on the table, then stared directly into the younger man's eyes. "If you don't follow orders, you're of no use to us. If you can't respect your commanders, we don't want you."

He hesitated, but spoke up after a moment. "But you do want me here. Or is this a long trip for nothing?"

"That depends on how you follow orders when we have the first training outing. Do you have questions?"

Otto frowned, digesting this, then shrugged a shoulder. "Well, if we're mercenaries, sir, when do we get paid?"

Mikell tilted his head, and leaned back. "When we complete a contract, the 'MechWarriors get a share of the pay after we pay for repairs, ammunition, and other things we need to keep flying. Everyone gets paid at the same time, but first comes operating costs." A small frown from Otto. Mikell held up his hand. "If we have no contract, you are paid a stipend which has been calculated out for living expenses and to cover basic needs. I expect you will learn how to save money from contracts as we pay you out for them, if you want to live it up off-duty." The hand rolled and was left palm-up as Mikell spoke slightly softer. "And if you prefer, we can set aside a portion of your pay towards owning one of the Company-owned BattleMechs for yourself." Assuming he didn't get one broken due to negligence on the field, but he would cover that later. "Once you own it, the Company will continue paying for your repairs or ammunition so long as you decide to keep a contract with us. At any time you can leave, and we can discuss how you would want your accounts paid out to you."

Otto nodded, frowning a bit. It was obvious he wasn't quite sure what to think of the candid discussion of money. "So, what kind of missions are we talking?"

"We're not doing anything illegal, only registered and recognized contracts through the Mercenary Review Board. It keeps us safe from most reprisals, and some of the dirtier jobs. For the most part, we'll avoid taking contracts to be cannon fodder for larger forces. Other than that, we will see what comes our way. Are you still interested?"

"Sir." He stood up and nodded. "If you'll have me."

"See Olivia Garrido about getting you a bunk, and once we can arrange it you'll go through a few training simulations to see how you fit." Mikell closed the dossier and put it on the table. "Dismissed, 'MechWarrior Greene." After he left, a glance to Reginald. "Well?"

"If he gets insubordinate in the field?"

"Depends on how bad it is, but we can train it out. But we'll get a better idea when we run the simulation. Bring in the other one now, please?"

Reginald opened the door, and leaned outwards. "'MechWarrior Draven." A thin man slid into the room, bumping into Reginald on the way, before finding the seat and hesitating before a nod told him to sit. Reginald studied him for a moment, and gave Mikell a look which showed what he thought.

"Okay, 'Mechwarrior Draven, it looks like you resigned only two weeks into an assignment. And three months into being inducted into the Twentieth Skye Rangers. So what happened?"

A pause, and the eyebrows drew down in confusion. "It's not in my file, sir?"

"Could you answer the question?"

A fidgeting in the chair. "Well, I was given a choice to resign or submit to being given permanent duty cleaning the toilets. So I resigned."

"Why was this?"

"There was something about a betting pool started over a Solaris match, and it was allegedly rigged. And allegedly I was the one who set the odds . . . but nothing could be proven . . ." Draven shifted in the seat. "Some of the officers caught wind of it."

"I see." Mikell steepled his fingers in front of himself, then noticed Reginald give a very slight shake of his head. "You should be aware, if you do something like that in this unit we would very likely not give you latrine duty or KP." Draven looked confused until Mikell smiled over his fingers. "We simply wouldn't protect you should someone want to take their money back, short of making sure you lived through the experience. A learning experience, I would say."

The reaction was what Mikell was expecting; he'd run into people like this at school. They inevitably had one of two reactions, either to become nervous or exercise bravado about their ability to handle it. The reaction depended largely on their body type and combat experience, so he had pegged Draven for the first type. "Sir, that seems counterproductive-"

"So is fleecing people you need to work with and trust to keep you fighting. Have you never thought, what if the tech you robbed in such a way managed to sabotage your ammunition feed in a way which resembled a tragic misfire? Poor Draven, it's a shame but we did get those spare parts on the cheap."

"Sir, I, um." Draven rubbed the back of his head. "Can I withdraw my application?"

Mikell looked thoughtfully at him, and then nodded. "If you like. But I'd like you to give Reginald back his wallet." Reginald's expression darkened, as his hand went to his hip pockets and found nothing there. "Before he shoots you."

Draven quickly stood up and reached into his jacket, handing over the wallet as Reginald opened the door and glared at him. After the door shut, Mikell picked up his comm earpiece and turned it on. "Olivia, this is Mikell. We have a candidate leaving the base, please ensure he is stopped and . . . strip-searched before he leaves. If you find anything on his body, keep his clothes." He sighed out and leaned back in the chair. "Tomorrow is going to be better. Tomorrow is going to go better."

"I certainly hope so." Reginald replied in a bored tone of voice. "Unless someone pulls a knife on me."

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• Date: June 16, 3029

The briefing room again, Mikell regarding one of the two files on the table. Reginald was admitting one of the other potential recruits into the room as Mikell regarded the vast amounts of redacted text and the margin note which read 'Authorized Eyes Only'. The woman who entered wore something reminiscent of a military uniform, and Mikell recognized the insignia as belonging to the Tamar War College. Her dark hair was pulled back from her face to frame a darker-skinned face with eyes which kept darting around a bit restlessly. A single white stripe fell to one side, unusual but where it was it was drawing attention away from eye contact.

When Mikell did meet her eyes, she avoided the gaze quickly. The slightly dull look told him what he needed but he wasn't sure which condition was causing it. "Please have a seat?"

"I'd rather not, sir." She said, standing at rest, her expression guarded.

"As you wish. So." He glanced over the dossier, and since there was nothing there to really work with he closed it. "I am seeing a curious amount here about a medical discharge. What is that all about?" He hoped that was it, blind stab in the dark about what might be causing all this.

"Those records are sealed, sir." She said quietly.

"Would you like to tell me what I might see inside of them?"

"No, sir." Her eyebrows twitched. "I came because you wanted me, not because I wanted to discuss that."

"I sent out the invitation because I wanted to discuss bringing you in. I want to know what's going on with you, because your marks for training are excellent but your training mission records are sealed." He folded his hands on the desk and leaned forward. "Why?"

"You would have to ask my instructors, sir."

"Ah. I still want to give you a chance. If you're willing to be up front with me about these events."

Her expression looked like it might harden for a moment before tension suddenly drained out of her stance, Reginald's tension likewise relaxing. "I can't remember all of it, sir. I would keep waking up in the medical bay with sedation after-effects and nobody would talk to me about why. I want to do this, I'm good at it, but I don't know why they don't want me."

Mikell nodded slowly. "I understand." He paused, and looked to the dossier before plucking it up. "This. This is useless to me." He dropped it into the waste bin next to the desk. "If you are interested, I need you to talk with my medical officer. Irene Dreissen. Then I will put you on the schedule for a training simulation to see how well you can do for us."

She left, and Reginald hesitated before speaking up. "I don't know about this, sir. I don't like unknowns, and she's now upgraded into a dangerous unknown."

"You've already lodged your opinions before, Olivia gave me hers, Casey didn't even wait for me to ask. Which tells me one of you two went and told her, or she knew about Kelly Sedda before." He focused on Reginald, who fidgeted slightly. "Louis, of all people, tried to make small talk in the mess this morning as I was preparing myself for today's meetings. All about this person, even if not everybody wanted to name her directly."

"Sir, if it's a medical issue-"

"Irene can handle it."

"If she can't?"

"I want Irene to make that decision, not me, not you." Mikell held that gaze for a moment longer, seeing Reginald nod slightly. Sometimes, you had to assert control, and let people know when you were making a decision. "Please bring in Vandal Grey."

"Of course, sir." Reginald didn't put the distaste into it Olivia might, realizing the decision had been made. He opened the door and leaned out to beckon the last one in.

The man who entered had his hair shaved close, the right side of his face bearing a few scars which were white hairlines along the cheekbone. "You are 'MechWarrior Vandal Gray?"

"I am." A slow nod.

"Have a seat?" After the man slowly sat down, Mikell looked to the dossier and left it where it was. "Is that an alias?"

"It is my callsign. I answer to it."

"According to your file, you have criminal records in the Commonwealth. Would you care to tell me why they have listed it as public endangerment and grand theft?"

"Well, sir, I was paid with a small crew to steal a Bulldog tank from the Tamar March Militia after they got a little too rough with some people who were not happy with them." He paused, looking thoughtful. "We did try to minimize damage, but having an unauthorized war machine is automatically public endangerment."

"What happened to the tank?"

Vandal's expression remained calm, neutral. "Some fine upstanding citizens dismantled it and sent it off-world."

"Right. Were you paid?"

"Not nearly enough for what I gave up in trade."

Mikell sat back in his chair, musing to himself. "I like you. You answered our interview invitation, so you must be able to offer something to us."

"I'm a 'MechWarrior, sir. No 'Mech but I can handle them fine. I prefer Light-class 'Mechs, maybe Medium-class. The mobility is important, and if you can pick your fights and engage on your terms they are easily very useful."

"Assuming I have a Locust LCT-1V?"

"I'd much rather go for a Stinger. Or Wasp. But if it runs, and doesn't explode? I'll work with it, sir."

Mikell nodded. "So do you have any questions for me?"

"Why?"

"Because you might have something you want to know-"

"No, not that." Vandal interrupted, waving it off. "I get the idea you want to know what it is I really want out of your outfit. Money, fame, fortune, someone to have my back if someone comes after me."

"Just so you're aware, if it turns out you're actually guilty of war crimes or something I'm not going to stand in front of you. I'll stand somewhere far away." Mikell said, smirking slightly.

"Please." Vandal snorted. "If someone ordered me to do something like the Kentares Massacre I'd just shoot myself instead."

Mikell noticed Reginald's expression shift, and Vandal glanced aside for a moment; he undoubtedly had just sensed the change in the room. "You're from the Federated Suns?"

"I'm from a lot of places." Vandal spoke slowly. "If you keep me around long enough, you'll hear about a few of them. I'm wondering why you and your officer suddenly got nervous."

"We don't need vengeance seekers."

"No money in revenge."

"Or patriots."

"My self-preservation is more important than who I fight for, sir."

"If it came down to surviving a battle or following orders?"

"I might have to disappoint you, sir. I'm not good to you dead, and I doubt there is any reason to order me to die." He narrowed his eyes. "You also don't strike me as the type to order suicide runs, so I'll be honest-"

"Please."

Vandal's silence stretched on from the flippant interruption before he spoke up again. "I would need to have a very good reason to lay my life down for someone else, and it wouldn't be because you ordered me to do it."

"I would hope you would at least offer an alternative rather than telling me what to do with my orders." He sipped from a cup, hmmming. "I wouldn't discipline you too hard for questioning an order you don't understand, or having a better idea than me. But if someone else dies because you did, I won't be happy with you."

"Sir, people do die in this business. I don't want to be responsible for their lives and my own."

"All right, see MechWarrior Olivia Garrido about getting a bunk. There will be a training simulation soon to see how well you can fit. Dismissed, MechWarrior Vandal." After Vandal left, he looked to Reginald. "So, your thoughts?"

"Mercenary. Skilled, and a bit jaded. I think we can use him, but I don't know how far we can trust him." Reginald spread his hands. "I think we can see what happens in the training simulations. If he can work as part of a team, or if he does his own thing and expects everyone else to understand what he's doing."

"Fair enough. Let's see what happens with these three, then."