Suomi Warders 4: Trials of Loyalty.

Plot Synopsis: To avoid continuously repeating backfill information in each story section the following brief sketch of previous events is offered. If you’re up on Warder history from the previous installments <Wages of Honor, Wager with the Clans, & Trap of Imagination>, just skip to the main story.

                It is 3052. The Suomi Warders are (currently) a dual company sized unit lead by the scion of a Free Worlds League industrial conglomerate. The unit has specialized in defending industrial locations and providing combat and technical training. For the past several years they have spent their time seeking pirate engagements as their CO hoped to find information about his missing sister, taken during a pirate attack on a JumpShip. Most of the unit hails from the same planet (Sampsa) and generally share their CO’s anti-pirate passion.

                Recently the Warders were engaged by a planetary Lord of Hamano in the Draconis Combine to train the local militia and repel a possible attack by pirates that had been raiding within the area. The Combine’s Military Governor of Hamano had just been recalled and was later killed under mysterious circumstances. Tai-sa (Colonel) Stephen Yamoto, the new M.G,. tried to usurp the Warder contract and use the unit for his own purposes but Major Linna used a loophole to void the contract. Before the Warders could arrange to leave the planet the pirates attacked. Tai-sa Yamoto withdrew his Combine troops leaving the city of Jeddah to the ravages of the attackers. Despite not having a contract as well as orders from the Tai-sa to withdraw, the Warders elected to fight the pirates and defend the city.

                The battle was short but pitched. The invaders had a pirate element which was completely destroyed and a mysterious mercenary element that was badly hurt but withdrew after wiping out the Warders’ heavy tank lance and damaging a few other Warder assets. Combine Officer Chu-i (Lieutenant) Naoko Fujiwara elected to assist the Warders while the Emir of Hamano (whom had originally hired the Warders) sent both his MechWarrior trained son Basem and an "under the table" payment to advance the Warder cause. During the fight Jason Larson became the only surviving pirate by defecting and was captured by the Warders. He proved to have information about the CO’s missing sister and was later accepted as a MechWarrior ‘Cadet’.

                Bound for Outreach to face a Mercenary Review Board against charges filed by the Tai-sa, the Warders were forced to take a side trip to the Periphery by their JumpShip’s previous itinerary. On the independent world Coleson’s Orb they engaged in war games with the small local defense force then were forced to stand by helplessly as a Clan Nova Trinary soundly defeated the local military (CORDF) and seized the planet. Assisted by an overly low Clan bid for forces to be used, the Warders defeated a Nova Cat unit for the right to leave the planet. Star Captain Lauren Gallagher, the Nova Cat CO, then challenged Major Linna to a single duel with the promise of letting the local population flee the planet as prize against Linna and his new-tech BattleMech becoming her bondsman. Although she was arguably the better pilot, he managed to squeeze out the win by a combination of using sensor equipment she had not thought to mount, clever tactics, and unknowingly using her phobia about fire to his advantage.

                As the general population was now free to leave the Orb, a number of ex-CORDF petitioned to join the Warders. Dispossessed of ‘Mechs or vehicles, these soldiers were largely infantry and techs but enough tankers to fill a lance and one MechWarrior also mustered into the Warders. The Warders also bought out the contract of the CORDF’s one DropShip. A second DropShip full of the children of Coleson’s Orb is currently under Warder protection. The Warders are now finally inbound to Outreach where the Combine consul for mercenary deals with Tai-sa Yamoto while pondering on what path honor lays. Additionally, the Warder activities on Hamano have interfered with the illicit activities of a shady industrial leader who has decided to take direct action against John Linna before the Major can use his wealth and position to press a private investigation of the Hamano raiders.)

Fellini’s Garden Terrace Restaurant
Planet Drayson, Free Worlds League
23 March 3052

                Stephan Ong quietly left the table and it’s sole remaining occupant behind and blended into the other patrons of the high priced establishment. It was one of his most accomplished skills; blending into the background of almost any social gathering ranging from grungy Periphery taverns to fancy Capellan receptions. Arranging to have people killed was another of his highly honed abilities and it was that latter ability for which the Chairman of Rold Investments had retained his services once again.

                The Chairman’s summons had come at an inopportune time and Ong had almost decided to ignore it. Stephan was currently involved in delicate negotiations with a Drayson planetary official. He also had a few political problems to lay to rest back at his new home within the Circinus Federation. As the Federation was deeply hostile towards the Free Worlds League, returning to deal with those issues would require a long detour through a neighboring Periphery state. But Stephan Ong was a founding member of the Assassin Triad of Santander’s World. He had taken retainer money from the Chairman and felt honor bound to take the Chairman’s assignment.

                A small pang of loss rippled through him as he thought of his home world. The cursed Ghost Bears had over-run the assassin’s hold as they gobbled up worlds that lay between Clan space and the Inner Sphere invasion corridors. Ong happened to have been on assignment in the Combine when Santander’s World was lost. Working quickly and quietly he had managed to gain control of several of high lord Vaslasek’s agents and teams and incorporate them into his own. A small part of what Helmar Vaslasek had built from his poor far-flung world lived on through the network that Ong now maintained. While Stephan Ong had gone on to establish himself as an unofficially sponsored Pirate Lord of the Circinus Federation, it was the special arrangements he made for high paying clients that kept his raider band equipped. The Chairman was the wealthiest of his clients, thus like any businessman Ong extended his best account special consideration.

                The assignment wasn’t easy, but shouldn’t be too difficult either. His personal involvement would not be required, which was just as well as he was eager to return to the Federation and deal with a rival who was raiding in Ong’s assigned territory. Stephen had two capable assets on Outreach already. They likely had local connections of their own by now. He would send a trusted emissary to deliver the contract and observe the operation. That someone actually travel to Outreach was a necessity. Despite their claims to the contrary, ComStar regularly employed sophisticated ELINT software to sift through messages they sent looking for words, passages, or names that would automatically flag the dispatch for review by ROM, their intelligence arm. The chance of detection was small, but even that was too much for him to accept.

Luckily, Stephen had such a trusted person available here on Drayson to send in his stead. With any luck the Review Board process at Outreach would drag on a bit allowing his team time to act. While anyone was killable anywhere, trying to eliminate Major Linna on his homeworld would be much more difficult. Despite the tight security of the Dragoon world and the dangerous presence of Wolfnet agents, Outreach would be the best place to tie this matter up as quickly as the Chairman was paying to have it attended to. Absently humming a popular local tune to himself, Stephan Ong left the club and melted into the general population of the city.

DropShip Baltic Serenade
Zenith JumpPoint, Outreach System
27 April 3052

                John Linna tossed and turned in his bunk, the two-thirds gravity being generated by the Serenade’s slowly accelerating burn toward Outreach coming perilously close to freeing his body to bounce from the bed and fall to the deck. It had taken more a bit more than a month to arrive in the Outreach system. It had required good fortune and outright bribery a few times for recharges using the Emir’s funds, but the three ships of the Warder flotilla had managed to make excellent interstellar time on their way back.

                The morale of the Warders was good and getting better the closer they got to Outreach. Although John and his Exec had yet to iron out how they would deal with rank issues in the long run, the newly recruited CORDF members had integrated into the standing Warder forces fairly easily. The Orb tech force was somewhat behind the times but were willing workers and eager learners. As the Warder techs were used to a training role, they were busily bringing the Orb folks up to speed on the latest in League systems. The two shattered tank forces found a shared bond in their losses and had formed friendship rather then rivalry. The ex-CORDF infantry was numerous enough to form three individual platoons. While there was some rivalry between the standing and new Warder troopers, the Orb ex-patriots had quickly realized they were outclassed by the three highly trained Warder platoons. But rather than be dismayed by the difference, the new troopers were excited about their newly discovered chance for advanced training. The one MechWarrior that had signed on, Sergeant (now Brevet-Lieutenant Junior Grade) Misty Florens, remained somewhat distant still. Her scores in the sim pods were good, but she had yet to fully deal with the loss of so many of her lancemates to the Nova Cats. Lieutenant Aukland had taken the newest Warder pilot under her protective wing however, proclaiming that once they got to Outreach Gracie would find another female MechWarrior and form an all-girl lance to terrorize the pirates of the Periphery with. Or anyone else that dared challenge them.

                Contrary to his people’s dispositions, John’s had worsened as the trip had worn on. A number of things preyed on his thoughts. The hidden backers of the attacks in the Combine, the lurking threat of the ongoing Clan invasion, and the realization that once they cleared Naoko’s name of desertion charges she’d have no reason to remain with the Warders all gnawed at him. But his biggest worry had become his sister Holly. Though he was heartened to know that- at least as of a year ago- she was still alive, it also seemed that if she had been serving on a DropShip crew then she would have had opportunity to get word to her brothers by now. Why she hadn’t done so weighed more heavily upon him with each passing day.

                He hadn’t had the nightmares in years, but as his sleeping body thrashed about his bunk in the low gravity he was having them again now. Oddly, he knew it. Within the dream he somehow knew that he was within a dream as he watched himself floating in zero-G in the small bridge of a JumpShip. Five other people occupied the small space, three crewmen and two pirates. This scene played out mainly as he remembered it when awake. The pirate leader suddenly looked down in concentration as a report only he could hear came over the light headset comm-gear he wore.

                "Shooting?," demanded the large, scruffy man into his mic pick-up. "Who’s shooting? At what? Slow down and give me a coherent report blast you!"

                The second pirate looked to his leader in concern, trying to divine what might be going on elsewhere in the large JumpShip. With both pirates distracted, two of the crew suddenly took action. The helmsman dove for the thruster controls while the captain pushed off from his chair and sailed toward the pirate leader. The young female yeoman conducting the tour which had brought John and herself to the bridge stood motionless, frozen with fear. John himself had been caught off guard by the sudden activity and floated motionless as well.

                There were many things John would never fathom about the JumpShip attack. The next event was one of them. From near the entry hatch the pirate ‘guard’ brought up his short barreled shotgun and fired at the motionless yeoman. Her chest exploded in red mist as her body was thrown back. In this dream the sound was turned off. He remembered the gun’s roar as being very loud in the small space but this time it was silent. It was only after killing the harmless yeoman that the pirate had shifted his aim to fire on the helmsman. The pirate leader had demanded that the ship be brought to relative rest, the purpose of which could only be to allow a DropShip or shuttle to attach. By slamming all of the port side directional thrusters onto full the helmsman had put the JumpShip into a spin which would make docking any craft upon it nearly impossible until the spin was arrested. It was a brave action that kept the JumpShip from being flooded with even more pirates but cost the helm officer his life as the shotgun spoke again, sending it’s deadly pellets ripping into the man’s back. Why the guard pirate had bothered to shoot the harmless Yeoman John would never know.

                Although the guard had locked a leg through a wall strap to keep his place, the recoil from the shotgun had twisted him to one side. John watched his dream self finally spring into action. Pulling on a clipboard hard enough to snap it free from it’s wall tether he spun it at the gun wielding pirate like a disc and then launched himself off the wall with his legs. The pirate automatically moved to protect his head from the incoming clipboard. Before he could recover and get himself righted John was on him. They grappled for a moment, each trying to control the shotgun. It went off to John’s side, burning his hand and spraying pellets into both the ship captain and the pirate leader. Both yelled out in pain (silently in the dream) but continued to struggle with each other. John lost the shotgun but realized that his foe had come lose from the wall. The "ceiling" was quite low at the hatch entrance and John was closer to the "bottom" deck. He pushed off of the deck and rammed the pirate into the bulkhead above. The pirate was temporarily stunned as his head crashed into the plating. John then managed to get one arm though a grab loop and a hand full of pirate hair with the other.

                Again and again he watched himself pound the pirate’s face into the wall. Blood floated freely about him as he destroyed the leering face that had so casually shot the yeoman for so little reason. He wasn’t sure how many times he had actually smashed the man’s head against the unyielding metal but in this dream it was an impossibly high number. Finally he released the pirate and snatched the now drifting shotgun just as the pirate leader gutted the captain with a long knife and pushed off towards him. At the last possible instant John turn and fired point blank into the leader’s stomach, blasting him back the way he had come trailing bright red blood and bits of pink flesh. When John let himself think about it in waking life, the entire fight had been over in mere moments. In this dream it seemed to have lasted an eternity.

                John had gone directly to the ship’s captain. Despite his fatal stab wound the man had not hesitated one instant. In a command tone that brooked no refusal and that John would hear in his mind for all his days the captain ordered John to take him to the communications panel and then to precede immediately to Blue Five - where the children were. Whatever it cost, the old captain had said as his life leaked away to float about the bridge, safeguard the children.

                The scene jumped to a behind the shoulder view of his dream self frantically pulling along the transit bars of the weightless corridors. From his memories of the real event John knew that the captain had spent his last moments of life contacting the attached DropShips full of Andurian and Sampsa guardsmen who remained unaware the JumpShip had come under attack from within. They would soon fight their way past the pirates guarding their docking-locks and eventually John would join them in fighting the last of the invaders still on board. But that was still quite a while later in coming.

                John saw that he was now wearing a light armor vest. He’d taken it from a dead security woman he had found floating near a hatchway. The long frantic scramble through the weightless hallways and the two fights with pirate guards were passed over. John suddenly found himself riding one of the transfer cars that moved people from the zero-G environ of the JumpShip’s main body out to one of it’s revolving rings that simulated gravity through centrifugal force. Blue section was a specific quarter of one of the grav decks, section five the area that had been reserved for the dignitary’s children. Such as his sister.

                He had remembered to invert himself "upside down" so as the car neared the outer ring he was on his feet rather than his head. Charging out of the opening doors he had run into another one of those unexplained moments. The doors to the transfer car next to his were just closing and he had gotten a quick glance at two faces looking back at him in surprise. The men had been ship’s security, probably startled by the sight of his now blood soaked body wearing a section of security armor and waving a shotgun around like a wildman. He wondered if they had even known that the ship was under attack or if they had survived the bitter, no-quarter battle that was to follow later.

                Another quick scene jump and he was rushing into the cabin that had been set up as a play area. A small, foul impish looking man seemed to be about to fire on a group of children with a laser pistol of some sort. John’s rush caught him before he realized anyone had burst into the area, dislodging the pistol as the two of them crashed into a play table with enough force to rip it from it’s floor moorings. John had rained several hard punches into the man’s head while sitting on his chest before becoming aware of a new threat too late to react. He had screamed (silently in the dream, oddly there was still no sound) as searing pain blossomed across his back. A second pirate had struck him with some sort of electrified flail of chain lengths that had actually burned through the protective vest. He watched himself take a second strike, which he remembered as not hurting quite as bad as the first. Doctors later opined that some nerve endings had probably been destroyed by the first attack.

                From his out-of-body perspective it looked like he had then executed a planned, calculated maneuver but from his memories he knew better. He watched himself roll away from the pirate, grab the table, and use it first as a shield against the whip-like weapon then as a barrier to push the pirate out of the cabin with before stabbing him to death with a knife he had taken earlier. When it had really happened he had been blinded by pain and had totally forgotten about the table until he bumped into it while frantically rolling away from the source of his agony. Using it as a shield had been a desperation measure half accident, and rushing the pirate with it had occurred only after he realized that he had lost his shotgun and didn’t know where the pistol had clattered to.

                The area temporarily secure, he had quickly realized that several children were missing – his sister among them. From the less terror stricken kids he had been able to learn that a few of them had been taken earlier by two of the bad men. No one knew why. He hadn’t done much to comfort the little ones at that point. Instead he had repeatedly yelled into the wall mounted comm panel, sobbing for help as his heart broke under the conflicting needs of searching for his sister, searching for his parents, and protecting the group of children now under his care from any further harm. He had stayed with the children until security forces from one of the attached DropShips had finally found their way to him.

                At this point the dream left reality and entered the domain of fantasy. Dark fantasy. Now he was desperately following a caricature of the classic space pirate image from the holodramas as the patch-eyed buccaneer pulled his screaming sister along behind him. John kept almost catching up only to have a hatch slam closed. Frantically he would open it only to race down the next section too late to save his sister. Over and over this happened as she pleaded with him to save her.

                In the waking world the reduced gravity lost it’s battle and his jerking body slid half out of the bunk and his knees hit the deck. He awoke panting and in a sweat, but not panicked or confused. As his dreaming self had somehow known it was a dream the return to the real world was somehow less disorienting. John had never seen his sister again after breakfast that morning. At least the nightmare had spared him reliving the sights of finding his dead parents among the slaughtered passengers or the multiple times he had thrown himself at pirates in a blind rage alongside the equally reckless security forces. He had been heedless of any danger to himself, perhaps seeking death and almost finding it. Only the skill of the surgeon attached to the special med-crew sent specifically for that trip and an unusually well equipped shipboard trauma center saved his life from the wounds he had received charging the last hold-outs. No quarter had been offered or asked.

                Checking his wrist-chrono he saw that it was mid-afternoon by ship’s time. He’d missed a morning sim-session. Shaking his head to clear it of lingering visions he stood and decided to go see what the results had been.

                In the mess hall that had become the Officer’s Mess for the voyage the Warder MechWarriors were spread about the tables indulging in various beverages and small talk. They had just finished their debriefing following the sim-session exercises. The Serenade lacked a true debriefing cabin of any sort. and the sim-pods themselves were actually mounted in what was usually a storage area. The two senior Lieutenants had agreed to leave John asleep when he failed to show earlier in the ‘day’. Not knowing that the Major’s participation had been planned, the rest of the warriors had never even realized their CO had been a no show. Even the newest of them could tell that the Major had been distracted of late however.

                Naoko had made sure to sit across from Sven after the formal mission reviews had ended. Waiting until the others all seemed to be involved in their own conversations she ventured to break into Lieutenant 1^st Jorgenson’s thoughts.

                "Lieutenant-san," she began hesitantly as he looked across at her curiously, "please forgive me if I overstep protocol. But could you please explain to me about the Major’s missing sister and his…ordeal…when she was lost?"

                Sven took a deep breath and held it for a moment. Her interest was innocent and natural. But it was not a subject any Warder often spoke of. Anyone from Sampsa already knew the tale. The entire incident was a driving force behind the Warders’ cohesiveness and sense of purpose. The Warders were changing now though. He and Gracie had sensed it starting. Then in planing sessions during this trip the Major had confirmed it himself. The unit was going to grow and in doing so take in a good number of people from other planets. People that didn’t share the same history. Sven suddenly realized that somehow the word "sister" had penetrated the other conversations, bringing them to an expectant hush as all faces turned toward him. His eyes locked with Gracie’s, who nodded in agreement that she willing to live it again.

                "Well, I suppose the four of you have heard some hints but not the full story," Sven started as he made eye contact with each of the MechWarriors they had picked up since Jeddah. "That’s because it’s something we don’t talk about very often but in a way it’s at the core of what the Warders are. So before some news-jock hits you up for sound bites on Outreach it’s time you heard the story of the Starcade Massacre.

                "Sampsa, the planet Suomi lays on, lays on the border of space between Marik loyalist planets and the Andurian Principality. The Andurians are now part of the Free Worlds League but have not always been so. Over the course of several wars many battles have been fought on Sampsa as the Andurian loyalists struggled against House Marik forces upon our planet for it’s strategic location.. For a short while Sampsa was even an independent buffer world between the two from around 2532 until the Reunification War that formed the Star League in the 2570s. In any case, after many battles and two occupations the citizens of Sampsa bear little love for Andurians. The Starcade was a large luxury modified JumpShip that dated back to the Star League itself. About eight years ago, at House Marik prodding, much of the political and economic leadership of Sampsa had boarded the Starcade for a trip to the Andurian capitol in a symbolic gesture to put old grievances behind our peoples.

                "Both the Major’s as well as Lieutenant Aukland’s parents were aboard. John and Gracie were in the academy at that time, and the young siblings of both – the Major’s sister and Gracie’s brother – were travelling with the parents. The Major – remember, just a cadet at the time – had been granted leave to travel with his family while his younger brother had elected to stay on Sampsa to finish his private school exams.

                "A pirate band managed to seize the control decks of the Starcade without raising an alarm to the scores of security troopers riding unawares in attached DropShips. They captured many of the dignitaries, holding their children as hostage against the cooperation of the adults. Interviews with the survivors all agreed that for no apparent reason someone started firing on the prisoners. A good portion of our planet’s leadership was killed in moments.

                "The Major was on the Starcade’s bridge at the time. He’d been taking a ship’s tour and happened to be on the command deck when the pirates burst in. The pirates had planned to dock a DropShip full of compatriots but the bridge crew put the Starcade into a spin that kept the DropShip from being able to attach at the cost of their lives. In the struggle Major Linna killed the two bridge pirates then fought his way alone to where the majority of the children were being held while the ship’s captain put out the distress call with literally his dying breathes.

                "According to the kids, the Major got there just before one of the pirates was about to start shooting the ones that couldn’t stop crying. Another melee followed and he saved the children. What he didn’t know was that a group had been taken to where the dignitaries were as visual proof the pirates held the children. The Major’s sister was among them. Lieutenant Aukland’s brother was not. Putting aside his personal desires the Major stayed and safeguarded the children until the security forces from the DropShips could relieve him.

                "He then went looking for his family alongside the security forces only to find his parents murdered. Gracie lost her parents on that bloody deck as well. His sister missing. The kids that had been taken earlier had been spirited off the Starcade as hostages. The Major then fought alongside the security troops to clear the remaining pirates until he was grievously wounded.

                "Fighters were launched along with escorting DropShips to destroy the pirates. But a shuttle stolen from the Starcade made the haven of a JumpShip that had been recharging in the area. The AeroSpace fighters were able to run it down but destroying it or attacking the JumpShip would have lead to the children’s death. Turned out the recharging action was a sham as the unnamed JumpShip cut the charging sail lose and jumped out. It couldn’t be followed – the Starcade wasn’t able to go anywhere. The pirate JumpShip was found later, adrift with no crew. They must have had another ship ready to take them further on right away.

                 "Investigators spent many months going over evidence, trying to find those responsible. Obviously one or more members of the Starcade’s crew had to have been involved. But explosives had been set on the JumpShip and blew out several compartments. Some of the Starcade’s crew were never found. There was no way to tell who had been destroyed by explosion and who might have left with the few pirates that escaped. Eventually the investigating council decided that it was a botched pirate action seeking ransom rather than a political act of terrorism. No group ever claimed responsibility.

                "The population of Sampsa collected enough money to buy the Starcade. I was with a police squad at that time and I remember we collected over 3,000 Finn-marks ourselves. That grand old lady of the Star League’s golden era was consigned to our sun. No one could bear the thought of perhaps having their children or grandchildren ride upon those blood soaked decks. Major Linna became our national tragic-hero. The young cadet that had saved the next generation of leadership at the cost of his own family."

                The doorhatch swung open just then and Major Linna ducked into the Officer’s Mess. Brevet Lieutenant JG Florens, used to being a Sergeant of the CORDF, immediately shot to her feet with the call, "CO on deck. Atten-shun!" Like many Sergeants, she had taken to rolling out the middle syllable and barking the final one.

                Such displays were not expected during an informal encounter in Warder military protocol. It was one of the reasons MechWarriors were traditionally officer grade in the Warders. So senior officers could interact with their fellow pilots without everyone jumping to their feet all the time. Basem and Naoko, both trained in the more formal Draconis Combine, had reacted to the call automatically while young Jason was simply startled to his feet by the Orb warrior’s sudden outburst. The senior Warder pilots snapped to as well. It was the first time John could remember Gracie coming to attention like that since…well, actually he couldn’t remember exactly when but he was sure it couldn’t have been that long ago. Could it? At first John though some sort of joke was being played on him for sleeping through the sim session. Then he noticed the damp eyes of some and tasted the emotion of the small room. Somehow he instantly knew that they had been discussing the Starcade.

                He just couldn’t deal with it right then. Leaving them at attention for a quick moment he fumbled himself a cup of coffee and retreated back to the hatch. "Carry on everyone. I’ll be going over the press requests we picked up from the recharge station at the Zenith point so I’ll be busy for a while. I’ll uh…"

                Leaving his last sentence unfinished he simply waved a good bye and dodged out the hatch.

                "What’s wrong with Major Linna," asked Cadet Jason in confusion.

                "He doesn’t like talking about it," explained Gracie as she dabbed at teary eyes. "His warning sensors could detect the questions about to be fired his way."

                "But he’s a real hero," argued Jason, "why wouldn’t he want to talk about it?"

                Basem Dhafar rested a hand on the younger man’s shoulder. "Tell me my friend. If an entire planet proclaimed you a hero would you feel like one having failed to save your parents or sister ? If you had seen your planet’s people laying dead on the decks? He feels the weight of those he could not save, not the joy of the families of those he helped. That he had no chance to save them does not easily soothe his soul of it’s pain."

                "But…but, I mean…he couldn’t have…" trailed off Jason. His mind was having a hard time wrapping itself around the concept that being a hero could be so costly or so tragic. But it was starting to. "Oh man…" he breathed at least. There didn’t seem to be anything else to say.

                Early in the story Naoko had wrapped herself in the stoicism of Bushido. The tales of loss had been many within the Combine as the Clans had advanced. Her eyes reflected how the tale had touched her heart however. The story also helped explained the scars the Major bore. To have faced such conflict in giri and suffered such loss; the Major must bear worse scars than those on his body. Basem’s planetary culture was more inclined to showing emotion than Naoko’s thus he had not worried about the misting at the corners of his eyes. He was filled both with empathy for his commander’s misfortune and fierce pride that the Major had accepted him as a fellow warrior. Basem hoped that he would find such courage within himself to place his people before his personal desires as both his Father the Emir and the Major his CO had so amply demonstrated. He felt blessed to have such fine examples of leadership.

A Sampsa native, Lieutenant Parks was well acquainted with the story and remembered the planet wide collection to purchase the cursed JumpShip. He felt John’s and Gracie’s loss but was mainly moved towards anger at those that would prey on civilians and children. Within Misty a dam finally burst. Combined with the pain of her recently lost comrades she found this new information to be more sorrow than she could contain. Hastily excusing herself she retreated from the room to find someplace private to cry. Sergeants, or Brevet Lieutenants for that matter, did not cry. At least not before fellow warriors that she hardly knew.

                Gracie moved over to the serving galley and filled two cups with hot water and grabbed some tea bags. She put it all on a small tray. Sven moved over next to her. "Are you OK Gracie? Where are you going?"

                "Hmm, yes Sven. I’m fine. This is for John and I. In your years as a Warder have you ever known him to drink coffee?"

                He smiled tightly and shook his head no. John didn’t like coffee. He always joked that it stunted your growth.

                "Old pain, old scars. They all heal with time. Or so I’m told anyway," she smiled sadly. "I think maybe you should give Misty about fifteen minutes to herself then go check on her Sven. I’ll be with John. Hey Frank, why don’t you run that Blue Ridge scenario with the rest of the gang again? I’ll catch up with you guys at dinner."

                Parks nodded and moved toward the hatchway. "You heard Mother Goose. Let’s go hit those pods, Warders. And I warn you now, I’m not nearly the pushover Gracie or Sven is when I’m Lance Leader."

                The three newer Warders smiled weakly as his small jest helped to break the glum mood. As if First Lieutenant Aukland ever went easy on them or Sven wasn’t always challenging them to defend their tactical decisions. With Parks it was usually damn the LRMs and full speed to alpha strike range when he had the lead. Although Jason kind of liked it when Lieutenant Parks was calling the shots. The simulations were more fun.

Harlech City
Outreach
30 April 3052

                Although it was still early morning with many of Harlech’s denizens just starting their commute to work, Council Heiro Taki had been in his office for almost two hours. It had always been his practice to start the day’s tasks early to allow time in the later afternoon for whatever new situations might have arisen. And if nothing new had occurred, then there was time for afternoon tea along with some meditation and reflection.

                With Tai-sa Yamoto’s arrival last week the Warder issue had begun to dominate most of Heiro’s time. Not that there had been much more to do than wait for the unit to arrive. But the officious Yamoto and his demands and inquiries required much time and attention. The two of them had spent the last four days trying to decide if the case would be kept with the ComStar Mercenary Review Board – which had increasingly come under criticism as being unresponsive and out of touch – or to move it to the newly forming Mercenary Review and Bonding Committee that was backed by the Dragoons and some of the other Great Houses. To be precise, Taki had been waiting for Yamoto to decide. It had been clear from the start that the Tai-sa regarded anything Heiro had to say as mere suggestion. It seemed that the ComStar board would soon officially fold. As Yamoto and his Warlord still felt some gratitude for ComStar assistance in the War of 3039, it seemed that the Warder case would be one of the last ones decided by the ComStar Review Board.

                If he had his choice, Council Taki would have quietly withdrawn the case. Although the Tai-sa had some valid legal points, Yamoto was unfamiliar with the concepts of popular public opinion or a public media. Within the Combine the press was part of the government. Here, it tended to be pro-mercenary overall and was free to report whatever it wished. Unluckily for the Tai-sa’s cause it was a slow news week and the ComStar Review Board docket was public record. Reporters were kept at the charge stations and they had already sent in preliminary interviews with the Warder CO while the Warder office in Harlech as well as the local DEW Industries office had issued well crafted news releases based on information radioed ahead from the DropShips. Their arrival time happened to coincide with the morning news programs. The Tai-sa may not understand public relations but it was obvious that Major Linna did.

                Heiro used a remote to activate the flat panel vid-display in his office. Although his staff would later prepare a detailed synopsis of the media reports, he wanted to watch some of it firsthand to get a feel for what was being broadcast. The image of a woman wearing semi-military looking tan fatigues and perfectly applied makeup appeared. Every since the Clan invasion had started many reporters had taken to wearing quasi-uniforms to ‘enhance’ their reports.

                This is Lori Wanagher reporting live from the Harlech Interplanetary DropPort. As you can see behind me, the first of the Suomi Warder ships is about to touch down here on Outreach. As some viewers may recall, the Warders are lead by Major John Linna, the wealthy heir to the Linna fortune and the celebrated Hero of the Starcade Affair that cost him his family eight years ago.

                History repeats itself today as John Linna once again rescues a group of children, this time an entire DropShip full of them from a small Periphery planet that has fallen to Clan invaders. Tom Jones will have the full scoop on the Warder / Clan clash later in this show. But the Warders are here and the Nova Cats are not, so you do the math.

                Heiro frowned to himself. "You do the math" was a saying that had recently come into vogue with the Harlech media. It was overused and he had never been fond of it to begin with. He also found the Harlech media too sensationalist for his taste although not as bad as the Solaris reporters. The camera feed zoomed in on a disembarking BattleMech, tightening so that the insignia of the Warders, a golden lion wielding a blue sword on a white shield bordered with blue, filled the screen for a moment as the reporter prattled on.

                Controversy dogs these Lions upon their return however. The Draconis Combine has lodged an official complaint against the Suomi Warders stemming from the Warders’ defense of the city Jeddah on the planet Hamano. Apparently the local Military Governor is upset that the Warders elected to defend the city – enough so that he traveled here to Harlech to personally pursue the matter. Major Linna denies the charges as politically motivated and vows to clear his unit’s honor before a ComStar Review Board. Tai-sa Yamoto of the Draconic Combine has refused to comment. The Combine’s office of the Council of Mercenary Affairs has issued a statement saying that all will be made clear before the Board.

                Remember, more in-depth coverage of the breaking stories and personalities involved is available on our PlanetNet Site at…

                 Heiro clicked off the set. Someday his superiors would come to understand that how the Combine presented itself to the rest of the Inner Sphere did matter. But that day wouldn’t be today. On the contract issue they were going to get – to use a local term – ‘cheesed’. As to Chu-i Fujiwara’s standing he was pretty sure that the Tai-sa could prove his case. Which, Heiro’s private investigation hinted at, was likely to be a bad thing for Naoko Fujiwara.

Harlech DropPort
Outreach
30 April 3052

                On the grounded Baltic Serenade only three people were left in the MechBay. The BattleMechs were all gone. A few had been moved by truck while Granny and Fire Wraith had been ferried by techs to the waiting hangar that would house the Warder ‘Mechs until they left Outreach. This had allowed John and Gracie to stay behind and had the added bonus of causing the waiting reporters to chase John’s Camelot in the mistaken belief that he was piloting it. The third person in the bay was Vilho Rajanen. Vilho wore the rumpled jumpsuit of a common dayworker and carried two overstuffed travel bags.

                "Are you sure you want it this way?" John asked him for about the fifth time.

                "I’m sure Major," Vilho responded. "I left recorded messages for everyone else with my good-byes. I just want to fade back home quietly. Besides, the last thing I want is a horde of reporters looking for a quote from the ‘fallen Warder’."

                "The battle logs don’t have any indication of what occurred. You’ll have a clean slate Vilho."

                "I know that and I appreciate it…John. Thanks for everything Sir. It was an honor to serve with you."

                John stepped forward and took the offered hand. "The honor was mine Vilho. Take care."

                "Hey listen you Mountain Bred mule. I expect you to have beers in the cooler and shrimp on the bar-bie when we get back. And a big smile on your face."

                "I’ll see what I can do in that department," promised Vilho as he returned Gracie’s hug. "I’ll miss you Mother Goose. For a sour old lady that’s always poking her nose in other people’s business you’re not half bad. Even if you are an Aussie."

                "Hah, go Bulldogs!," she chortled. "And you won’t miss me because I’m going to spend my free time hanging out at your place eating out of your kitchen."

                It was Vilho’s turn to chortle. "Like either of you ever allow yourselves free time. But I’ll keep the kitchen stocked just in case. You two take care of yourselves, you are the Warders. And go find Holly and bring her home. I know it’s not much for me to say but any help I can give is yours for the asking."

                Vilho drew himself to attention for what he expected to be the last time. "Sisu Sirs!"

                "Sisu," responded both officers in near unison.

                A sly smile played across Vilho’s lips as he added, "and No Worries."

                Gracie laughed out loud as John colored slightly in embarrassment. He really wished he hadn’t accidentally coined that phrase.

                "No Worries," she heartily replied.

                They watched Vilho’s back retreat across the duracrete in silence for several minutes. Finally John sighed heavily. He had one more bitter farewell to wish. The sealed CMRs, ‘Container for Mortal Remains’, along with a small honor guard taken from Second Platoon would be transferring to a new DropShip and headed for home. There would be a unit memorial when the rest of the Warders finally got back, but the families of the deceased would have their loved ones returned with all possible haste. Many outfits buried their dead near the places they fell, uniting the body with what it died fighting over for all eternity. Some smaller units simply couldn’t afford the cost of shipping the dead across the cosmos. But leaving their own behind was not Warder tradition. One way or another, a Warder always returned home. The question of what to do with non-Sampsa Warders leaked into his always working mind. Yet another side issue caused by his decision to enlarge the outfit. He’d have to look at the standard contract again when he found the time.     

                In the cavernous hanger temporarily assigned to the Warders the MechWarriors had grouped around Sven after powering down their mounts. Or riding over with the tech crews. Misty Florens had been assigned the captured Flashman – but it was still missing a leg. Lieutenant Parks’ Bushwacker was effectively destroyed but he had brought over the spare Hermes II while Lieutenant Dhafar still had no ‘Mech assigned to him. He wasn’t worried about it though. Basem planned to buy one here on Outreach. He could simply wait for the Major to find him one, as Parks was, but Lieutenant Dhafar had been raised to know that with privilege and wealth came the responsibility to equip yourself rather than needlessly use the resources of others. Any Warder funds spent to secure him a ‘Mech would be less money the unit had to replace it’s tanks or find Lieutenant Parks a new ‘Mech.

                "All right, listen up MechWarriors," called out Sven. "The Major and our Lance Leader are busy with other business so it falls to me to get everyone tucked in tight. Or as it’s early morning, at least to the right bivouac. Sergeant Harding has supplied me with our billet information and you should all be pleased to hear that we prima-donna ‘Mech pilots will be enjoying the Redison Hotel here near the DropPort. Our illustrious Lance Leader gets her own room but the rest of us will be paired off. I’ll take a wild guess and say Naoko and Misty will be roommates. Frank and Basem, I’ll let you two fight it out to determine who gets saddled with Jason and who gets stuck with me.

                "There’s a mini-bus waiting out there to take us to the hotel. Other than a unit briefing scheduled for later tonight our itineraries are clear. Keep your hand-cells on your persons as they’ll work for intra-Warder communication in Harlech and Sergeant Harding informs me that they’ll be on line with the local phone network by this afternoon. For those that haven’t been here before Harlech is a uniform friendly city so there’s no worry if you want to wear Warder clothing rather than go civie. Just watch out for the lower end Mercs that might try to prove something by picking a fight with us just because we’re the news item of the day. Any other questions, toss them to me on the bus. Oh, almost forgot. Naoko, the Major will be calling you later about a legal meeting for the review case. That’s it. Let’s board and go check out the Redison."

                 Though small, the bus had enough seats for each pilot to have their own bench as the driver piled their personal gear on the roof rack. Although all of them were somewhat impressed by the bustle and modern design of the Harlech DropPort, neither Jason or Misty had never seen the like of such a place. For a short time Jason was actually rendered speechless as he took in the sights.

                "Hey, what’s that," Parks suddenly cried in excitement as he pointed toward the runway area.

                They all turned to look at the oddly configured craft that was swooping in to a slow landing.

                "That’s a LAM. A Land-Air Mech," supplied Sven. "It’s a BattleMech-AeroFighter hybrid. It can change between the two forms. Very old, not many of them left in service. I don’t think anyone makes parts for them any more."

                "It’s rad-tech!" exclaimed Parks, "I want one. Do you think we could talk the Major into buying a couple?"

                Jorgenson laughed. "Frank, you don’t use jump jets much less fully vectored AeroSpace thrusters. What in the world would you do with a LAM?"

                "Besides my friend," chimed in Basem. "I do not think you would find one to your liking."

                "Oh, why’s that?"

                "The LAMs are limited to a low total mass and much of their weight is occupied by the equipment that allows them to change form. They cannot carry much of a weapons payload – often only a few medium lasers."

                Parks frowned. "I see your point. That’s no good. I want more guns than my old Bushwacker, not less. Oh well. Maybe I can talk the Major into an assault ‘Mech. Think what I could do with an Atlas." He rubbed his hands together gleefully at the thought.

                Even Misty joined the laughter as they drove on across the DropPort.

                Later that morning Osmo Woods was strolling across the outdoor common area of a small mall, looking for a place to have a little brunch. Uncharacteristically, he was out of Warder uniform. His taste in casual clothing happened to mesh perfectly with that of the local population. Osmo had a very specific location for brunch in mind, and scanning the tables arranged around the commons he spotted what he was looking for. Or perhaps more precisely, who he was looking for.

                He slid into the unoccupied chair at the table, setting his shopping bag under the table next to the one that was already there. By planned coincidence, the bags were identical ones from the same nearby music store. The bags would leave with different men than the one that had brought them to the table.

                "Osmo, good to see you again," smiled the well built man from behind mirrored sunglasses.

                Woods smiled in return. "Stan the Man. It’s been a while. I was expecting Linda."

                "Hey, I was in town and couldn’t pass up the opportunity. Major Noketsuna has been impressed with what we’ve learned about the Warders. And your last burst about Hamano and Coleson’s Orb; I look forward to reading the details you just brought. I envy you Lieutenant – or should I use your Warder rank of ‘Captain’ – for actually having a direct say in conducting a battle through their Bifrost system; it’s too bad more units don’t see the benefits of rolling intelligence into the actual operation phase instead of just planning."

                Woods looked off thoughtfully. "Yeah, it has it’s advantages. But you also vector good soldiers to their deaths. So it’s a mixed bag."

                Stan shrugged. "Never a good thing to lose people," he agreed. "But it always happens. I guess the smaller the unit the harder the concept of ‘acceptable losses’."

                Osmo just nodded. Stan decided to change the subject.

                "So anyway, I take it from your information request that your Major Linna has a line on his long lost sister. So what do you think- if he finds her what will the Warders do next?"

                "That’s the good news. Our accidental meeting with the Nova Cats has changed John’s perceptions somewhat. He knows now that the Clans want Terra and a new Star League. While Sampsa is one of the few Inner Sphere places that doesn’t exactly revere the Golden Era days, it’s also not that terribly far from Terra. So he’s decided that it’s time to rebuild the Warders into a larger unit again. Once he recovers Holly I think we’ll go Clan hunting."

                Stan nodded. "Good news indeed. It will be good to have the Warders and their high tech connections facing off with the Clans rather than wasting their time chasing bandits. You’ll need to keep this to yourself but your Major either has very little time or a good amount of time to build his unit. It’s been kept quiet to avoid a general panic but the CommGuards and a few special additions are facing off against the Crusading Clans on a little planet called Tukayyid soon. If we win the invasion is halted where it is for fifteen years. If they win – Terra is theirs."

                Osmo leaned back in shock. "Good God," he mumbled. Talk about placing all your bets on one number.

                "Don’t sweat it Osmo. We’re going to win. And it’s better to do this now. The longer we wait, the more likely various Clans will adopt more Inner Sphere-like combat practices. Wolfnet is a little worried about the ComStar forces involved though. First at the size of their secret army and second at how green some of them are. But we think they’ll pull it off. If they don’t though, we’ll probably recall you. That’s the only reason I’m telling you anything of this. So you’ll know why if you get a sudden and unexplained recall order."

                Osmo just nodded. He realized that somewhere along the way he had stopped considering the prospect of being called back. His Free Worlds citizen "wife" was actually a Wolfnet agent doing cultural observation. He’d dropped out of contact with his father here on Outreach years ago. The Warders had become his life, especially after he became directly involved in their combat operations.

                Stan studied Osmo carefully. He wasn’t sure he liked what he saw.

                "Don’t lose track of your true loyalties Osmo. The Dragoons mean the Warders no harm, but when we need you back then we need you back. The Warders are simply your assignment. The Dragoons are your home."

                Osmo seized tight control of himself. "Understood Sir."

                "Good then. Well, the info you requested is on that disc including something on that Flashman. Here’s a verbal freebie though. If your Major is going to be looking for more Bushwackers he’s out of luck. The attempt to make them IS Omnis is dead. They’ll go into general production as a fixed model but not until next year or so. The whole IS OmniMech program is bogged down actually…"           

As Stan talked Osmo nodded attentively occasionally. But he really wasn’t paying too much attention to Stan’s discourse on IS ‘Mech design. His mind was on Tukayyid and recalls.

                "…Oops, I wanted to go over their new 3C equipment but I see one of your Warders and she’s making a beeline right for us."

                Osmo looked up at the nearby shop window, using it’s reflection to spot Gracie closing on the table. The strategic position of the darkened windows was what made this a favored meeting table.

                "I better fade. Good to see you Osmo."

                "And you too Captain," replied Woods.

                Osmo grabbed Stan’s bag from under the table and stood. He started leaving, then made a show of ‘suddenly’ spotting Lieutenant Aukland. "Hey Lieutenant," he called cheerfully. "Been shopping I see."

                Gracie nodded, waving the bag from the toy store in agreement. "Who was that?" she asked.

                Osmo shrugged. "An old friend. Mike Taylor. Went to school with him here on Harlech."

                She watched the man Osmo had been talking to disappear into a store. "Yeah," she replied thoughtfully.

                "So what’s in the bag?" he prompted.

                She returned her attention to Captain Woods. "Just a little something from ‘aunt Gracie’ for John’s daughter when we get back. A toy set. Nothing special. What are you up to today?"

                Woods smiled. "I’m meeting up with some of our fellow Warders to do a little shopping of my own. For really big toys. Tank sized ones."

                "Well, I heard that Ranger’s looking for an Atlas. Bad idea. His ego’s tough enough to live with as it is. In fact, I’m on my way over to the Mercenary Hall’s training center to knock him down a peg or two. The light rail stop’s over that way right?"

                "Yes. Next block down to the left."

                "Thanks. See ya later Osmo."

                "Later," agreed Woods. He carefully followed her long enough to make sure that she really did go to the train stop, then headed off for his "shopping trip".

Mercenary Hall
Harlech City, Outreach
30 April 3052

                At an outdoor café near the Mercenary Hall the Warder MechWarriors were relaxing around a large table as they waited for Gracie. The new members had been astounded when a group of youngsters had rushed up and asked for their autographs. Sven and Frank passed it off as common activity. The Warders were all over the news right now. ‘Flavor of the Week’ as Parks had put it. Some Dragoon unit would come home or an outfit that was here to refit after a tough scrape would touch down and the Warders would slip from the radar screen. Frank Parks ate it all up though, promising a gaping Jason that their Warder uniforms were babe magnets for the next few days and he knew all the right night spots to take Jason to put their current notoriety to good use. Sven preferred it when no one took a second look at them. He hoped someone else would blow into town soon. Basem and Misty were both bemused, unsure what they thought about the whole thing for different reasons.

                "That looks like Lieutenant Aukland over there," announced Misty. Although she was used to MechWarriors in general, she was unused to all of them being officers or to being a Brevet officer herself. In her mind she had always pictured herself as a career Sergeant. But the Major had said he was going to put together some sort of officer training program for herself, ‘cadet’ Nellson and anyone else the Warders wanted to wear officer bars.

                The others turned to look and saw that it was indeed Gracie headed their way. Parks stood to get her attention and called out, "Hey Lieutenant. Did you get my Atlas yet?"

                Several heads in the café turned at the mention of the famed 100 ton assault ‘Mech. Gracie only shook her head ‘no’ and laughed. "You’re dreaming Ranger. What I have in this toy bag is more your speed."

                Frank made an exaggerated show of looking hurt, playing to the light crowd, before sinking back into his seat. She arrived and took an empty seat with the others.

                "Where’s Naoko?" she immediately asked.

                "With the Major and the lawyers," replied Frank. "So what is in that bag? Jason’s birthday present?"

                The youngest Warder present flushed crimson as Gracie pulled the box from the bag.

                "Present for my ‘niece’. Take a look, they’re cute."

                Through the clear front they could see several colorful plastic figurines of what were obviously BattleMechs – but designed so that faces and animal features were notable on several. A pair of bases were included that let the figures be mounted then used against each other in an electronic battle of sorts. The box was marked in English, Japanese, and German.

                "Poke-Mech," read Sven off of the box. "What’s a ‘Poke-Mech’?"

                Gracie shrugged. "Cute and expensive. The shop guy said it’s the big thing with the kids these days. Here on Outreach anyway."

                "I know of these toys," added Basem. "While they were only starting to reach Hamano, on the planet of the academy I trained at they were very popular. Translated it roughly means ‘pocket Mech’, or a BattleMech that one can keep in one’s pocket. They are from an animated children’s show that started on Luthien but has become popular in many other places as well. As I understand it, each Poke-Mech has special powers and grows to between one and three meters tall. They are 'tech-trained' by their young owners and then are used to battle each other and the show’s villains."

                Gracie was reading the back of the box as she held it for the others to see the front. "Hey, these are kind of funny. ‘Erbie the LuckMech’, ‘BunnyJack’, and ‘LizardLot’."

                Sven shook his head sagely. "Gracie, you know her mother doesn’t approve of war toys."

                Gracie started to argue that these cute little Poke-Mechs weren’t war toys. But gave up the thought right away. Sven would see through such a lame excuse. So she went with the truth.

                "I know. But I don’t care," she smiled. "Now let’s go embarrass our fellow MechWarriors in the sim hall. And if anyone spots an active match with someone named Cowgirl in it let me know. She left an application with our office here and I’d like to check her out."

                As they entered Jason was immediately captivated by the large arcade area just to the left of the foyer. A huge holotable was displaying a three way fight of sixteen hand sized BattleMechs. Open booths around the table held the battling players. Large letters across the overhead projection tray bore the legend ‘TechWarrior 4’. The ground detail and projected ‘Mechs were incredibly lifelike. Jason felt a hand rest on his shoulder and turned to see Gracie smiling down at him.

                "TechWarrior’s for loser and wanna-bes. And game heads like Parks. The real stuff is back this way where only qualified MechWarriors are allowed. If you thought our sim pods jury rigged on the Serenade were impressive wait until you see this set up."

                Parks laughed as he paused next to the two of them. "Don’t listen to her Jason. TechWarrior jams. It’s rad-tech to the extreme. We’ll come back and teach these yahoos what real warriors are capable of later."

                Jason soon found he had to agree with Aukland. The Harlech sim-pods put the TechWarrior game to shame. Each cockpit was on hydraulics and could be set to simulate heat effects if you wanted it to. The controls were authentic and modified but real neurohelmets were required to operate them. There were many display screens and holotables scattered about the lounge area from which one could watch any ongoing simulation that hadn’t been blocked as private by the combatants. A battle pitting a single 40 ton Clint against three units marked as 45 ton HCT-5S Hatchetmans caught Basem’s eye. The Clint was marked as Cowgirl.

                "Perhaps this is the woman you seek," suggested Dhafar as he pointed out the match.

                The Warders crowded around the display, which caught the attention of those already watching. But the two uniformed warriors and the jumpsuited tech type quickly turned back to the battle display. Reading the display over the Clint Gracie saw that this was some new variant she was unaware of. It quickly became apparent that the tech favored the lone Clint while the MechWarriors were unit mates of the Hatchetman pilots. Gracie didn’t recognize their unit patch. The tech wore none.

                On the surface it wasn’t a very fair match. The three slightly heavier ‘Mechs were armed with LB-10X autocannons, a triple brace of medium pulse lasers, and one very mean looking hatchet. By pulling the specs from a nearby monitor Gracie saw that the Clint was armed with a single ER PPC and two medium pulse lasers of it’s own. But the battle area helped even things out a bit. It was a desert theme with many tall rock pillars and deep crevasses. She doubted you’d ever find such terrain in real life but it served for the computer simulation.

                The Clint was using it’s superior speed and jumping ability to keep at extreme range while using the pillars as cover and to keep more than one Hatchetman from targeting her at a time. For their part the trio of 45 ton ‘Mechs were trying to heard the Cowgirl into a triangle between them. It looked like they might have finally boxed her when she jumped up onto a pillar too tall for the other ‘Mechs to reach on their lesser jump jets. She then started jumping from pillar top to pillar top occasionally stopping to splash fire down on her opponents. Gracie realized at that point that the scenario designer had placed the taller pillars so that a properly equipped ‘Mech could do just exactly what the Clint was doing.

                Gracie leaned down and tapped the young looking tech guy on the shoulder. "There money riding on this match?"

                He looked up at her, startled to be addressed. "Uh, yeah," he admitted. "50 C-bills."

                She smiled. "Good. If your friend there is up to it I want the next match. Let’s call it 100 bills. That’ll be the 50 you have and the 50 she’s about to win. Same scenario."

                The young man looked over the other Warders cautiously. Gracie was pretty sure that he had noted and their lion patches but couldn’t tell if he recognized them. "How many of you?" he wanted to know.

                Oh, she was a cheeky pilot Gracie smiled to herself. With an equally daring friend. How many indeed. "Just two of us," she replied lightly.

                "You’re on," the tech-kid exclaimed excitedly as he turned back to watch the current match.

                It played out much as Gracie had expected it to. One by one the Hatchetman ‘Mechs fell to cumulative internal damage as the Clint sniped away at them from out of reach. Only towards the end did one of Cowgirl’s foes attempt to mount the lower pillars for better range. But he missed his jump to the next pillar and crashed to the ground where the Clint quickly added a PPC bolt to finish the wounded ‘Mech off. One did manage to land an LBX burst on her leg, shredding all the armor and doing light internal damage, but it was too little too late. The two MechWarriors grumbled about the unfairness of the contest but elected to pay up when Gracie strongly suggested they do so then sit back to see how it was really done. They even decided stay and watch the upcoming match.

                The tech guy introduced himself as Shane Washington. After talking into the internal comm system for a moment he told the Warders that his sister agreed to the bet and was ready to go if they were.

                Gracie turned and smiled at Sven. "This should be right up your ally Lawman. Let’s go corral us a Cowgirl."

                "After you Mother Goose," bowed Sven with a sweep of his arm towards the pod stations.

                Parks rubbed his hands together in anticipation. "I don’t suppose anyone wants to bet against my two friends?" he called out to everyone in the lounge hopefully. "I’ll give odds."

Central Harlech City
Outreach
30 April 3052

                 Naoko and John rode side by side in the back seat of the ground car in relative silence as the driver worked her way through the lunch hour congestion of Harlech. The huge people-mover-express project underway and slated for completion next year was supposed to ease the traffic but the driver doubted it. She started to cuss out a TA marked cab that had cut her off but remembered who her main passenger was and kept her remarks to herself.

                John was gazing absently out the window, lost in thought as his mind played over the legal options he had discussed earlier with his lead council. Naoko was looking out the opposite window to keep herself from looking at him. This was the first real time they had spent alone together. It would have been a good opportunity to strike up a true conversation – had she been able to shake the images of his healed wounds and the story of the Starcade from her mind. But she couldn’t, so other than some small talk she remained quiet. After what seemed like a very long ride they were finally at the building that held the offices they sought.

                The lobby was impressive but the offices they soon entered were stunning. A dapper man with gray hair and a slim build came from an inner office to great them as soon as the secretary announced their arrival. From the nameplate in the lobby and the monogram on the inner doors Naoko assumed the man to be Perry Tortuga. He greeted the Major warmly.

                "John, it’s great to see you back in Harlech again. And this must be the illustrious Chu-i Fujiwara that a ranking Colonel has come all the way from the Combine to retrieve. Charmed my dear."

                She had thought she was offering her had to shake his, as John had done, only to be surprised as Mr. Tortuga clasped it then bowed to lightly kiss the top of her hand. He stepped back and appraised her.

                "I can see why this Colonel Yamoto finds you worth the effort."

                Naoko blushed, flustered and unsure how she should respond. This was not behavior she had ever encountered before. Mercifully, the Major came swiftly to her rescue.

                "Take it easy Perry," he grinned as he patted the barrister on the shoulder. "She’s not used to those of you blessed with Latin blood. In short, you’re embarrassing her."

                Tortuga bowed deeply then. "My apologies Chu-i. I meant no harm, I am simply an old romantic fool. I shall endeavor to be more business like. Please, follow me and allow me to introduce you to the rest of your team."

                Wondering what the lawyer could possible be talking about she followed the two men into the inner office as they made small talk about local politics and construction. A slightly chunky blond man and a slender Asian woman waited within.

                "Mister Linna, Chu-i Fujiwara, allow me to introduce Paul Monk and Leena Muyo. Paul is an expert on military law and mercenary regulations while Leena is an accomplished corporate attorney who has presented many civil cases as well as being well versed in public relations. She is, if you will, our mouthpiece."

                The four exchanged nods and quick greetings as Perry lead them to a black marble conference table. "I must say John, that was some masterful PR you had lined up on arrival. Did you have a PR team with you on the ship?"

                John shrugged. "No. That was mainly my own work with some elements added from the DEW offices here. It was fairly standard stuff I thought."

                Perry waved away the younger man’s attempt to downplay the complement. "It was not standard, it was perfect. And the child refugees. That was outstanding." Perry could read the growing anger in John’s face and quickly continued before John could interrupt. "Ease up there John. I’ve known you long enough to know that you wouldn’t drag a bunch of kids across the cosmos just to generate some positive PR. I was simply saying that I am pleased that you were willing to let your good deed be promoted to advantage. Too many times you let your charitable acts go unheralded. Seems to be something of a national trait for you Sampa types actually."

                "It wasn’t like I could hide an entire DropShip full of children," noted John. "And I promised I’d keep them safe so I wasn’t inclined to send them off to Sampsa alone. Which reminds me, you do have your staff working on the work visas for the Orb refugees that will be following right?"

                "But of course my dear friend. But now let us turn to the matter at hand. Paul has some interesting observations to add to your ideas about defense tactics. We shall, how is it you MechWarriors say it, ‘splash them’ good."

                "That’s more of an old fighter jock term but I get the picture," smiled John. "All right Paul, what do you have."

                Naoko was seated next to Leena, who seemed to have heard whatever it was Paul Monk had to say already and wasn’t paying much attention to the discussion that was starting. She smiled at Naoko when she realized the Combine MechWarrior was looking at her.

                "Ohayo," nodded Naoko. -Good Morning

                Leena Muyo looked at Naoko blankly. After a brief moment she shook her head negatively from side to side. "I’m afraid I don’t speak Japanese Ms. Fujiwara."

                Naoko stumbled over her apologies. "I assumed that you were also an interpreter. I did not mean to be rude. I humbly apologize Ms. Muyo."

                "Make it Leena. And there’s no need to apologize. It’s actually Paul that’s fluent in Japanese. My role is to present the case and hopefully defuse some of their presentation strategy. They’ll be using a young female staffer to present their case in an effort to soften the Board’s bias against the Combine’s traditional cultural treatment of women. Sort of a visual statement that women are treated with opportunity by the Combine and to validate that this isn’t a witch hunt against you just because you’re female by playing on the subtle assumption that one woman wouldn’t help attack another without good cause.

                "Of course this Yamoto guy really is culturally repressed. He’ll dislike having a mere woman like me punching holes in his case and hopefully become agitated enough to disrupt his own team’s legal work. Perry also wanted to soften our overall look from the presentation table. Then there’s the chance I’ll actually get to directly questions Yamoto. I might be able to fluster him into an outburst that will weaken his credibility and maybe discredit his testimony even if it was factual."

                Naoko looked at her in amazement. "All of this was actually considered and planned in advance? The Review Board can be swayed by small things such as who does the speaking or how well they do so?"

                Leena grinned. It was the same predatory grin Naoko had seen warriors wear in anticipation of a contest or battle. "You better believe it. It’s one of the reasons the Review Board is folding – it got too political. But we drew a good Board for this one that will base it’s decisions mainly on the legal issues. Still, take it from me. It might look like a hearing room but when we take our seats before the Review Board we’ll be entering a battlefield with it’s own special rules of engagement. But have no fear Ms. Fujiwara. In this battle Mr. Linna has pulled out the big guns and arrayed them on your side of the map. They’ll never even know what hit them."

Mercenaries Hall
Harlech City, Outreach
30 April 3052

                Keena Washington settled herself more comfortably into the sim-pod’s seat. This would be her third money match today. And it should be the easiest she figured. Whoever these yahoos where they thought that just two of them were going to be enough to take her. Keena had taken as many as five opponents down in this scenario. The Cowgirl would show them how a Solaris gladiator got things done. She clinched her arms together in front of her then stretched them out, working out the kinks and getting ready for ‘battle’. Although the heat buildup restrictions were in play, her pod was currently configured not to actually pump heated air at her. She checked a secondary display Keena that in a real ‘Mech usually carried reactor information but in the pods showed simulation data. She was surprised to see that her two adversaries had elected to leave their internal heating option on. Curious as they would know that hers was off. But all the other sim choices were set at maximum realism and the engage light was green so it looked like they were ready to go. The callsigns Mother Goose and Lawman appeared on the side display.

                Keena keyed the comm. "Lawman and Mother Goose, welcome to the Pillars of Pain. You two ready to get it on?"

                "I was born ready Cowgirl," replied a strong female voice. Presumably Mother Goose. "Call it and we’re a go."

                "Then I call it," Keena told them as she started the Clint forward.

                She watched her sensor display with interest to see what their plan was. Shane had told her that her two opponents had watched the last match so they must have a plan. Not that it would do them much good. She had three different patterns to win with in the Pillars scenario. As long as she didn’t allow an adversary a long ranged energy weapon she almost always came out on top.

The simulation assumed that the rock pillars interfered with direct radar, but that the various electronic emissions of the three ‘Mechs was sufficient to provide tracking. The two Hatchetman ‘Mechs started moved to the left, probably headed for the area that had fewer pillars but more crevasses. Looked like it was going to be pattern number two.

                Then the pair of contact blips left her scope.

                Keena rapped the display with her knuckle, double checked that the simulation status still showed the other two as active in the sim, then stopped her ‘Mech behind a pillar for a moment. She chose a different comm line. "Sim Control, this is pod 7B. Is my scenario functioning properly?"

                "7B, this is control," came a bored voice. "That’s affirmative. You, 2C and 3C are all green. No error reports on the sim."

                "Thanks Control," she mumbled. So it looked like she had a couple of slick types on her hands. Well, the Cowgirl had plenty of real combat experience Keena reminded herself as she realized what they had done. She dropped her sensors to passive only as well. Now they wouldn’t detect each other until they were fairly close. It was time to warm up the old Mark One eyeballs. Visual sighting might occur before sensor contact depending on the pillar placements.

                Lawman jogged his Hatchetman along the outer border of the scenario arena. He was still working on getting used to the slight pull to the side caused by the heavy melee weapon grafted to the arm. It was basically useless for this scenario and he had considered jettisoning it. But the gyros and jump jets were balanced with it’s weight in mind so he held onto it. His only long range weapon held more interest for him. The LBX cannon was a favorite of his and somewhat his specialty. Both Warders had elected to use normal shells rather than the sub-munitions type. This particular one was a different model than the weapon on his Bushwacker. Autocannons were all designated in 5,10, and 20 types (although currently the LB-X type only came in a "10") but the numbers reflected relative damage potential rather than actual caliber size or muzzle velocity. Thus one AC 10 might fire one or two large rounds while another would be firing a quick burst of 10 smaller rounds. His Bushwacker carried a slow loading LB-10X that fired a single high velocity 95mm round. This one fired a burst of smaller 60mm ones. Damage models and field testing showed that the relative damage to a given target was roughly the same regardless of which type hit. Sven had a slight preference for the slower rate, larger round cannons on the belief that they jammed less frequently than the high rate ones.

                "O.K Goose, I’m here. Looks like you’re right. These edge pillars have a lower one in jump range and a second tall one closer to mid point. Hope I still remember how to jump."

                "No Worries Lawman. It’s just like riding a horse. You never forget."

                "Is this a good time to mention that I grew up in the city and never rode a horse?"

                They both laughed as they engaged the jets and hopped up the first lower pillar. Although neither employed a ‘Mech with jumpjets, each made sure they staying in practice both in the sims and with a jumper kept back at Warder HQ for just that purpose.

From the second level pillar each popped to the third level. Then they made the dangerous jump to the only other third level pillar they could reach with the Hatchetman’s jump range. Then they waited.

                Keena crossed the floor of the Pillar arena twice without finding her foes. She’d checked twice with sim control to make absolutely sure the others were in her sim and with growing interest control had confirmed that yes indeed the two Hatchetmans were still lurking about. In fact, control was now actively watching the match. It had become somewhat comical to watch the Clint scuttling from pillar or pillar seeking foes that were perched about 170 meters above at low power mode. Both the staff of the control booth and the spectators in the lounge were wondering why the ‘Mechs with the high ground hadn’t fired on the Clint yet despite several opportunities.

                Staying with a losing strategy had never been one of the Cowgirl’s faults. If she couldn’t find them from the ground then it was time to climb the pillars. Walking a circle to first make sure no one was waiting to nail her in the back while she jumped, Keena moved to one of the more central pillars and carefully lined up her vector. The pod’s seat inflated slightly and the hydraulics shook it, giving the illusion that she was being pressed back into her seat by upward acceleration from the jets. As her feet touched down and she steadied the 40 ton machine she was faced with the improbable. To her right on another of the level three pillars was one of the Hatchetmans. Keena’s threat warnings lit up as the Hatchetman’s sensors went active and a targeting radar locked onto her.

                She was way too close- as in within range of the three pulse lasers the Hatchetman carried. Her Clint’s minimal armor couldn’t stand up to a pounding match with the better armored Hatchetman. Working from memory and long practice as much as anything else she broke into a run punctuated with long jumps as she tried to hopscotch across the pillar tops away from the larger ‘Mech before it could fire on her. It was an impressive display of piloting ability and quick reflexes. It saved her from eating the pulse lasers but as she landed from her first jump a LB-X burst shattered her left arm. The armor was flayed away along with most everything else except the central bone spar and the main myomer bundles. The actuators all glowed green on her panel but she’d hate to have to actually use the arm for anything. Luckily her main gun was in the other arm. Two more jumps and she’d be ready to fire back.

                In the lounge, Shane was yelling a useless warning at his sister. He wasn’t on the comm and she was over a hundred meters away and locked in a sim pod. But she got the message soon enough after her next jump. As it was already registering the targeting radar of the first Hatchetman, when the second started targeting her the threat system was already reporting a warning. Busy jumping, Keena had failed the notice the new sensor blimp until her left leg was savaged by a LB-X burst from the opposite direction of her first contact. She hadn’t lost anything vital, but that leg was now armorless and had suffered some internal damage.

                She might cuss, cry, kick, or throw things; but the Cowgirl never panicked. With the hard won skill of dozens of firefights she quickly evaluated her situation. Keena realized that the hustler had been hustled. Her two foes had found the outside pillars that were accessible to them and risked the long jump for the next pillar in. Now no matter which level three pillar she went to, at least one of them would be able to fire on her. None of the pillars would allow her to fire from outside both of their ranges, and up here there was no cover from their fire. Right now she was in the worse possible placement – in their crossfire.

                Her only chance was lower down now. She rushed for the edge of the wide, circular pillar and snapped off a PPC shot. She doubted she would make it however. As expected, her pod shook violently as another cannon burst slammed into her. Keena had taken the extra moment to head in a direction that wouldn’t expose her rear to either foe but it didn’t do her much good. The left torso was hulled by the shot. The structural damage was survivable but a critical hit within destroyed the torso mounted jump jet. Then a second cannon strike severed the left leg while three pulse laser bursts savaged her from the nearer Hatchetman. The pulse damage was simply insult added to fatal injury at that point. She was in the process of pitching forward from the missing leg. In another few heart beats she was going over the edge sans half her jump jets. Her hand jabbed down and pulled the ejection bar while her Clint was still angled upwards but nothing happened.

                The red ejection system failure icon began flashing. She knew that the manual suggested manually exiting a BattleMech via the main hatch in the event of an ejection failure. What to do while falling 170 meters in a dead ‘Mech wasn’t mentioned. Two thoughts flashed through Keena’s mind in the brief moment before her pod crashed down from it’s elevated perch to simulate the fall. The first was that this was going to hurt. The second involved wondering if this really was a random system failure or if someone in control had over-ridden the ejection command as payback for repeatedly questioning their simulation. Either way, when the sim crew warned you to cinch the pod restraints tightly they meant it. Keena was slammed around her pod until the computer decided the falling Clint had come to rest. The main display was now dark with a simple message in white type centered on it.

                Pilot has been killed.

                The comm still operated as she heard the same feminine voice note casually, "live by the pillar, die by the pillar."

                Keena really hoped that it had been the silent male pilot that had blown her leg off and skewered her with pulse lasers. She really hated losing to other women. She didn't like losing to men either, but at least they were often more gallant about their victory on the rare occasions they scored one.

                The pod hatch cracked open and a tech was standing there, ready to help her out of the capsule. "You all right? It’s been a while since someone rode a pod down that hard. If you’re up to it the Warders have invited you to meet them in the main lounge."

                Keena climbed unsteadily from the pod. Her butt hurt fiercely but she would be die before she let the pod tech or people behind the glass of the control room see her rub it. "The Warders?" she asked. The name sounded slightly familiar for some reason.

                "Yeah, the Warders. The two MechWarriors that just ended your eight match winning streak."

                "Oh them," she replied with little enthusiasm. "Sure. Guess it’s time to pay the piper."

                As Keena elected to visit the locker rooms for some privacy to massage her aching backside, Sven and Gracie beat her back to the lounge by a good margin of time. Shane sat glumly where he had watched the match from while Parks was gleefully collecting payments from several parties within