Unnamed Planet, Unnamed System
Former Apollo Province, Unclaimed Territory
February 15th, 3010
It turned out that the ill-fated SLIC team had taken over part of a hanger down at the Spaceport for their base camp. This was also only the second place in which we had found skeletons. It did not pass my attention that both places had been sealed against the elements and, incidentally, scavengers.
We're probably safe with keeping 'Mechs active at all hours, and the Implacable sealed up at night. It was also armed, just in case the scavengers turned out to be Rodents Of Unusual Size or some sort of alien Dire Wolf or something. Some big cats were perfectly happy to scavenge, and this whole area felt like cougar territory.
I took a moment to mention the possibility to the ground security team, just as I commended them for a job well done this far. On the one hand, I didn't want them getting lax. On the other, they'd done a damn professional job so far under difficult circumstances.
Then I actually took some time to check over what the team had found. The shuttle was in decent shape, closed up and under a roof as it had been. The SLIC team had, understandably, collected a bunch of data on the bioweapon. That would have been really useful to have a few days ago, since it would have laid most of my concerns to rest. Turned out Anthrax spores couldn't survive for much more than fifty years, even under ideal circumstances.
Even assuming one of Amaris's eggheads had managed to triple that in amongst all the other concerns of crafting a bioweapon, any infectivity ought to have run its course. In spite of that, one of our young hopefuls had nearly caused a panic when he turned out to be allergic to something in the atmosphere.
It was good to have competent help; the medical staff had dealt with it before it ever managed to make it to my 'desk.'
I made a mental note to deliver some attaboys where they were deserved before refocusing. I was running short of Techs, but a couple of the Astechs were decent enough with computers to be able to at least start the process of cataloguing what was on the shuttle's computer and the away party's tablets. In amongst geeking out over the technology.
A millennium in the future, and what was basically a militarized, ruggedized iPad was a technological marvel. I took another long moment to stomp down on a surge of rage at the phone company, glad that it was easier than it had been back in the 21st century. I'd done some seriously stupid things when I was being led around by my temper. With the situation the way it was, I couldn't afford that. The people that were relying on me couldn't afford that.
Still and all …
"So not much beyond things we already know?" I asked.
"Pretty much," the senior of the Astechs responded, "I mean, some of this would probably have been critical military intelligence at the time, but I haven't seen anything important so far. Mostly just details that're already in the history books. Other than that, there's sidearms, a couple of laser rifles, and some odds and ends, but nothing as impressive as those handheld computers… "
He trailed off, and I realized I was gritting my teeth in frustration. I waved him off and just basked in the absurdity. There were laser rifles sitting right there and this kid was impressed with the iPads. "You're doing fine. Just frustrating to see how much technology we've lost to the Succession Wars," I half explained, half bullshitted.
Everyone around the table nodded at that before the younger of the Astechs, Gary … Gary something … asked, "Well, the factories here, I mean, there's rumors that … maybe they'll be able to make some of … um?"
I kinda felt sorry for the guy. "Haven't found any yet, then again we're going to have to do a bunch of scouting. The maps we found in the Terminal were a godsend, but they're really just a layout of the roads and basic addresses," I explained. "All we've really had time for was clearing the immediate area around the 'Mech cache. As we get more of those online, we'll be able to spare some people for scouting."
"That's all that was on those maps? The one the Star League guys had over there has more than that on it," the other Astech said, and it took a moment for me to process the statement.
Then I was up and moving towards the indicated folding table. The computer geeks had piled a bunch of assorted stuff on top of everything. Had to move that first. When I finally got a good look, I felt almost giddy. A photo-realistic shot from orbit with digital enhancement and laminated with a high-quality product to preserve it. The notations were a bit strange, but that's what the key was for.
There! A pair of items, one a symbol for a factory entrance, the other coloration for above-ground factories. I started scanning the map. Even at its size, completely covering the top of an eight by four foot table, details were pretty small since it covered both the north and south sides of the pass. The orange hash marks would be easier to spot …
Nothing on the first terrace above the spaceport; like we'd surmised, it seemed to be almost entirely warehouses and low-income housing. The sec-
"Holy shit!" More than half of the second terrace was marked out as probable factory locations. One was marked as a probable fusion engine plant, a second as an SRM-6 line. The trend continued for everything except the uppermost terrace, which seemed to have been reserved for big governmental buildings.
My exclamation had drawn attention, so when I looked up at the pair of Astechs they were already looking back. I was tempted to be irritated at them, but really it was my own fault that I hadn't sent someone with more experience to backstop them. "Next time don't assume that all the important stuff will be on the computers," I said instead. "This map might be the most important thing in this building. Now, were there any more?"
XXXXX
There had been. This planet wasn't just heavy gravity, it was metal-rich. In the heyday of the RWR, the place had produced everything from tungsten to titanium to germanium. Platinum group elements. Literally fucking everything. The bad news was that a lot of the infrastructure had been spread out. The germanium mine in particular had been in a lowland area well away from any of the cities. Just finding the former location under a couple centuries of vegetation growth would be a pain in the ass, much less getting it back into operation.
That meant that, for the moment, it wasn't a priority. The factories were.
For that, we needed more 'Mechs for scouting and guard duty. Whatever scavengers or predators existed on this rock seemed to be afraid of 'Mechs at least. Even though those 'laser rifles' the Astechs had so readily dismissed turned out to be pristine Mauser 960s, there were still only six of them. Not nearly enough to go around, even for the few ground security guys who could manhandle the heavy-ass guns under the increased gravity, and we hadn't been able to afford NVGs for essentially non-combatant ground-pounders. If the fauna was to form, they'd probably have better night-vision than humans did.
That meant dropping in to take a look at what the company's Techs were up to.
This time, the 'Mech in the portable bay was a Galahad, the original 50 ton design, not the 60-tonner most people thought of if they even knew the extinct design had ever existed. It had been one of the most advanced machines the Militia had been equipped with even before it had been updated.
It was also a bit of an odd duck, in that it maintained standard armor instead of the more durable Ferro-Fibrous plate. That was because the chassis didn't have room for the attachment points the more advanced armor required. The space required was instead taken up by the 'Mech's Endo Steel skeleton.
The Galahad was the only 'Mech design in the cache to utilize Endo Steel, but it used it well. Between the weight saved there and with the 300 XLFE, it managed to pack in a pair of ERPPCs and a full fifteen freezers. Ten tons of standard plate meant the design was as well-protected as some Heavies, and the six Jump Jets meant that anything rushing to get in close against it would likely find itself badly outmaneuvered, though the cooling systems would be quick to punish a pilot who overused them.
As a Sniper, it was an improvement over the Panther in every possible way.
Jimmy was quietly impressed in his customary stoic way. He was also half inside the 'Mech's torso helping the techs install seals for the XLFE when I caught up with him.
I waved the Astech off and took over handing parts in to him. "So, what do you think?" I inquired.
James was quiet for a long moment as he finished installing the seal he was working on. "Without having actually piloted it, I can't be sure; however, the specifications are … impressive," he replied.
"Hell of a Sniper platform on paper," I agreed.
After another pause where I handed him a ratchet and the next part, he continued, "The lack of any secondary armament would be a concern with conventional PPCs, but when combined with the jump jets, the ER models provide excellent firepower and ability to get behind an enemy that attempts to get inside minimum PPC range. Anything small and fast enough to successfully close the distance against it is profoundly unlikely to survive a pair of PPC shots to its rear armor."
"Pretty much my thoughts as well," I agreed. Ironically, infantry was more of a threat to the Galahad than most enemy 'Mechs would be, and even then infantry could only get in range in an ambush or if the pilot let them. With the oversized XL engine it sported, it could cruise at the same speed as Jimmy's old Panther could move at a run. "And that's not even considering getting in and out of otherwise inaccessible sniping positions or bypassing impassable terrain."
Jimmy finished tightening a bolt. "Indeed, all the medium 'Mechs I've had time to look over have XLFEs. We should consider camouflaging some of the weapons with false armor patches the first few times we deploy them to preserve tactical surprise."
That was … a really good idea. Let the other side think we were running fast, under-gunned machines. Then blow them away when they committed to an engagement. "That's a solid idea, James. Let me know if you come up with anything else we can use like that."
James nodded. Another long moment passed in silence. "So what's up after your Galahad, here?" I asked, wondering what Sam had decided on.
James grinned. It was unsettling. "One of the Wasps," the incredibly amused man responded.
"Seriously?" I demanded, incredulous.
"To be fair, have you seen the engine ratings on them? Half the reason Sam was in a Wasp already was that it was the fastest 'Mech the unit fielded," Jimmy reasoned.
He wasn't wrong; the cache Wasps were uncompromisingly scouts. With a 225 rated XLFE eating up a full quarter of their tonnage allowance, they could cruise at damn near 120km/h. When they actually set out to cover ground, they hit velocities of well over 180. A quartet of jump jets, a pair of 5cm lasers, and three tons of Ferro Fibrous armor filled out the rest of the BugMech's limited mass.
That being said, they were perhaps less than ideal for our current situation. Without a running start, their jump jets were much less capable than those mounted on most of the mediums: only the Kyudo and the Icarus IIs which failed to mount jets entirely.
Still, if that's what he wanted …
I shrugged. "His choice, I guess," I said. Took all kinds. Then I remembered one last thing I wanted to tell him. "By the way, funeral is tonight."
James hesitated for a moment. "I'll be there."
XXXXX
The planet had days just a touch under twenty-eight hours long. We'd standardized it to twenty-seven with a forty-nine minute Compensation period. That would probably need adjusting until we got it exactly right, but the math was complicated enough to be a pain in the ass, and we didn't have anyone that really specialized in it. It was good enough for now.
We'd also tried to arrange it more or less like Earth's hours were, so at 2100 there was still plenty of light as close as we were to the equator. One of the projects I'd handed out was to find a suitable spot for Jason Maxwell and Anne Thompson, the pair of Techs whose skeletons we'd found with the data core. The full letter I'd skimmed part of had contained the story of what happened here. A former colony turned prison planet had rebelled against Amaris's tyranny and come a hair's breadth from victory. One more hit against the station in orbit …
"We are gathered here today in …"
For want of a nail. They'd taken everything they had left after hammering a regiment of Amaris's Dragoons, fixed it up, and put it into storage for the SLDF, except the SLIC team had apparently never started up the Spaceport's computers. Never seen the address to lead them to the cache of 'Mechs. So for want of a missile and a bit of luck, the 'Mechs were waiting for us when we landed and so were the factories.
"… to give thanks for their last acts on the face of this Creation …"
And if I was careful and a little lucky, I could parley them into not just a future for me and my people, but maybe an end to an interstellar Dark Age for the Inner Sphere and the defeat of the Clans, whenever they were supposed to show up.
We owed them, and the SLIC team's remains deserved better than to be dumped in a hole in the ground and forgotten.
"… gave their last full measure of devotion and those who honored their oaths in the face of …"
The place that had been settled on was clear at the west end of the first terrace, where the Aerodyne runways were located. There wasn't any soil to speak of, but determination and a little bit of cheating had been enough to create a set of graves, even in bedrock.
"… such, we raise our voices in praise to You, oh Lord, and in thanks for …"
The Company only had one Minister, a Second Reformation Methodist. I didn't particularly like the guy, but then again I wasn't precisely objective. I'd parted ways with the Methodist church when I was a teenager because I disagreed with their doctrine, and a thousand years of drifting away from the Nicene Creed had not improved my disposition.
Then with the press of a button, an old hymn came over our radios, replayed from the Dropship.
… Okay, he was at least better than a Papist.
After we'd finished singing, he said a few final words that were only barely recognizable as being descended from the funeral sermons I'd heard in my last life, then waved me forward to give the eulogy, since my ancestor had been known to the SLIC team at least. I glanced down into the graves as I passed by.
We didn't have coffins, but the SLIC team had body bags and there'd been some small SLDF flags in a compartment on their shuttle. We also had a bugle. It turns out that in the far future, buglers still learn how to play Taps.
I stopped beside the Minister and turned back to face the crowd. When I'd hinted that I would appreciate if people attended, I had been taken seriously. My Mechwarriors were wearing rather more than they usually did when they might have to scramble into a cockpit on short notice, though they were largely clustered on the side of the crowd where their machines were parked, just in case. Captain Chapman and most of her bridge crew were front and center, and many of the Techs and their assistants were present. The rest of the crowd were mostly camp followers, and probably in attendance to get out of the Dropship as anything else.
"As most of you will have heard by now, my many times Great Grandfather was a Captain in the Star League's Intelligence Command. Most of those we are here to lay to rest were men and women under his command. The other two, the only two we can put names to, were not, but they acted in a manner that was in full accordance with the principals of the Star League."
Jason and Anne hadn't been members, but they'd died fighting for the SLDF anyway. I didn't figure any member of that service would begrudge them the honor of their remains being draped with the SLDF's banner.
"Jason Maxwell and Anne Thompson were part of a resistance movement against Stephen Amaris. They were civilian technicians, not Mechwarriors, not pilots, and yet they and others like them were responsible for the destruction of a Dragoon regiment on this world. They and their confederates defeated Amaris's butchers and prevented all the war-fighting materiale on this planet from being used against the Star League.
"And when the last holdouts deployed biological weapons against them in defiance of the Ares Conventions, they used their last days of life to put more than four Battalions of Mechs into long term storage. They assembled the hardware and expertise to write everything they thought might be useful onto a Data Core." At that statement, confirmation of the rumor that was already circulating, there was a hiss of air from the crowd. A mix of gasps and exhalations washed over me, and I could see wide eyes with just the start of tears.
"Rather than spend time with each other or seek comfort in other ways, they and others like them worked themselves to death to preserve something for the future. We owe them a debt." I turned to the graves in full, the SLIC team in a ring around the single larger grave where, as Jason's Last Will and Testament had requested, he and Anne be buried together. "This is all we can offer for now."
All we could do at the moment was build cairns, but I already had a plan, or the seed of one at least, for a memorial somewhere between the D.C. World War II memorial and the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier in mind.
"In the future that will change. We'll be able to build a memorial worthy of the sacrifice they, and others, made on this world.
"However, even then, the best memorial we can give them is to use what they left for us. Not just to build lives for ourselves, but to improve the lives of our fellow man." I did not yell. I didn't even raise my voice. I simply spoke with quiet intensity. This wasn't time for rabble-rousing. I just made a promise and meant it. And let my employees, the people I was responsible for, know that I meant it.
The sun was still well above the horizon when the ceremony drew to a close and the burial detail started piling the rocks back in the holes.
I stayed long enough to watch the repurposed runway light illuminate the single Star League banner we'd found on its solitary flagpole once darkness fell. We'd done them what honor we could, but if I was to keep that promise, there was still a lot of work to do.
XXXXX
Unnamed Planet, Unnamed System
Former Apollo Province, Unclaimed Territory
February 22nd, 3010
A week was a short expanse of time in most regards. Especially so when you didn't even get a full seven standard days out of a local week. It had still been enough time to get the remainder of my active complement of Mechwarriors mounted up again, and for a start to be made on getting some of the old-timers back in the saddle.
Last I'd seen, the Techs had a second Phoenix in the process of working back up. The old Rim Worlds Republic design was changed almost beyond recognition by the refit.
The most visible change was the way the secondary armament had been entirely stripped. Instead a 5cm laser joined the ERPPC on the machine's right arm while a pair of them had been placed into the center torso, with a second pair in the left arm. The design also had nine and a half tons of Ferro-Fibrous armor, a half ton more than the standard plate the -3R had mounted.
To fit all that onboard, the designers had relied on an XL engine. Like the Galahad, the Phoenix also mounted an extra-light 300, increasing its speed. Also like the Galahad, it mounted a half-dozen jump jets for maneuverability, and fifteen freezers kept the design reasonably cool unless it needed a jumping alpha strike, in which case the cockpit started to rapidly turn into a sauna.
Outside of Commandos, the cache had more Phoenixes than any other 'Mech configuration. Not unexpected, since the RWR had been the producer for them, at least until they'd tried to switch the PPC out for an autocannon in the original -4R. Still it was reassuring to see that such a large percentage of my future force was kitted out so solidly.
My brain had already classified most of the cache Mediums as the 'Mech equivalent of Battlecruisers. Can catch anything small enough to kill, and can run away from anything that can kill them.
Enemy Lights would basically evaporate under a single Alpha, and without XL engines they didn't have the speed to get away. Mediums had just enough mass to think they could win against a lance of 50-tonners, but not enough armor for a stand-up fight or enough weapons to score a quick knockout. Even Heavies didn't really have enough long-range weaponry to beat them if a Lance of Phoenixes chose to kite them; trying would be like an army 'pursuing' an army of Mongols.
MOBA players called that 'chasing to death' with good reason.
And even when somebody else caught up with our tech advantage, they'd still make excellent harassers. Being able to jump in on the flank of an enemy with their firepower was no joke. There wasn't a heavy mech in existence that could casually accept an alpha strike from a lance of Phoenixes and stay up. Hell, even Juggernaut Assaults couldn't just shrug off the combined fire from four ERPPCs and twenty 5cm lasers. Worse, the 'Mechs could just hit their jets once they fired and hop back out of the fight.
I shook the pleasant thoughts away. They weren't what I was most concerned with. A week had been enough time to scout out the factories, at least the ones on the surface. The subterranean ones were locked up tighter than Fort Knox.
Given what was on the surface, I really wanted to find out what was buried. My scouts had found a PPC line, multiple SRM and LRM lines, ammunition lines, Autocannon lines for everything but Class 5s, lines for 3cm, 5cm, and 8cm lasers, flamer lines, jump jet lines, and machine gun lines. Armor. Heat sinks. Sensors. Life support. Cockpit electronics. Gyros.
Then there were the fusion engines. 150s, 225s, 260s, 280s, and 300s.
The one part that was inconvenient, if understandable was the lack of any chassis or final assembly plants. If I was Amaris and I was concentrating a bunch of my societal dissidents on one planet to work them to death as slave labor, I wouldn't want to risk letting them have a chance to build all-up tanks or Battlemechs either.
Hell, even using them for feeder factories had turned out to be a bad idea in the end.
The question was, what should I leverage to make my proposal, and who should I make it to. I looked over the Cliff notes for the half-dozen plans I had spread out on my desk one last time, then tapped one of them.
Time to see what the rest of my senior staff thought.