Blood on the Horizon
- Chapter 45 -[]
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Interview of pair of Prospects[]
Location: Bethonolog, Magistracy of Canopus
Date: March 21th, 3004
The office was clearly a rented or leased space, but it was clear from appearances that this unit valued efficiency and usability over bragging given what effects were about.
Hanging above a small L-shaped desk was a copy of their MRB License certificate, and two secretaries were doing different tasks.
One was filing paperwork while the other was typing away at a Noteputer, both of them dressed in what appeared to be the unit's uniform. The black uniform was sharp, with the gold stitching and buttons on the dusters seeming a bit much until the jacket shifted and the weapons around their waists were revealed for a split second before being hidden again.
These were more than just pretty faces, they were trained professional soldiers who happened to also be working as secretaries.
"Ahh... good," one of the secretaries glanced up at them."You're just in time, the Major has an interview to finish up and then he'll get to yours."
"You can take a seat while you wait," the other one offered, gesturing to a comfortable-looking sofa nearby. "He shouldn't be long."
"Does the Major often interview applicants?" Katrina asked as she continued to evaluate the office space.
"About a third of everyone that applies and makes it through to the interview part goes to him," one of them replied. "The remainder is split among the rest of the command and admin staff depending on the job role that they're interviewing for."
"I couldn't find anything on the correct size of your company," Morgan spoke up. "Is there any information you can give me on unit sizes or what will be expected?"
"We don't divulge information like that until you're hired. If you were a future employee, we might consider it, but given how most of our contracts have been anti-piracy, OpSec has been critical for us."
"Right," Morgan nodded. "That makes sense."
Then, as he was getting ready to ask another question, a nearby door opened and a small group of people walked out, some of them with heads held high, the others with downcast looks on their faces.
"If you speak with Corporal Jeanette here, she'll follow up with all of you reflecting the decisions that have been made. I'm sorry that we're not the correct fit for some of you. But we are a bit more strict on hiring for a good reason."
"Major, the next candidates are ready for you."
"Thank you, Claire."
Katrina considered the man as he did the same to them.
He was younger than expected. Most unit COs or owners and operators that she had met were in their fifties if they were unit founders, and were in their twenties if they had inherited a unit from their parents. This man was clearly in his late twenties or early thirties.
His uniform matched the secretaries', only he didn't have any rank insignia on his collar or ribbons on his chest. Across the right side was a simple nametag that read "Hull". But everything else was plain, emphasizing a simplicity that Katrina found herself approving of.
His face was a different story though. He resembled a young and fit-looking Santa Claus, with the cheekbones reflecting someone jolly and enjoying life, even though a serious look was on his face, it was clear that he spent more time smiling than frowning. His beard was an odd thing, with blond, brown, red, and gray interwoven throughout the entire thing. Clearly, his genetics must have been tweaked at one point or another.
"I'm Major Mark Hull, if you'll follow me into my office, we'll go ahead and get this interview process over."
"Please, have a seat," he gestured to some chairs while he grabbed a small file folder before sitting, not behind the desk, but in a chair directly in front of them. "Now, it says that all three of you have experience, but I have no way of getting in contact with the Nagelring or any of the Lyran Commonwealth academies in a timely manner. So, I'm going to ask some questions, and if you answer honestly, we probably have a place for you. But," his gaze turned a bit harsh. "Don't lie. You can tell me that you're not willing to answer, or that you don't know something. But I'm looking for honesty and trustworthiness over most things."
"Now, we can get on with the first question."
Newcomers join the Markman[]
Date: March 25th, 3004
"I've got it," Arthur walked over to the phone of their hotel suite as it rang. "This is Arthur."
"Yes, I'm Private Clair Williams with the Marksman Mercenary company, we met last week when you and your companions came in for an interview."
"Yes, what of it?"
"You three have been approved to move through to the next step of the interview. If you come to the compound on the outskirts of the city we'll get the paperwork processed and find you a place within the unit. And let me be the first to welcome you to the Marksman."
The 'Compound' was little more than a barren field with a group of prefabs on it and a makeshift landing pad with dropships arrayed in formation, a fence surrounded the entire thing, and Jeeps with mounted HMGs and grenade Launchers patrolled the perimeter.
"Not quite as secure as I would like," Katrina observed. "You'd think they'd have a bit more security around the place."
"According to what we pulled from Comstar's public records," Morgan pulled open the documents they'd printed out. "They've only been here for two months, and given they've only got an eight-month garrison contract, it's probably not cost-efficient to build anything beyond this."
"Especially if they're leasing it," Arthur agreed. "Most farmers will accept a fence, but whoever owns this land won't be able to farm on it for a decade at the least. But he will be able to market it to other Merc units if he keeps the prefabs and fence in place."
They were stopped at one of the gates by an armed guard, well-made Taurian body armor covering his torso and legs.
"We'll need to see some identification. And then we can direct you to where you need to go."
Arthur passed over their documents. And the guard began to look them over before speaking into a radio clipped to his vest.
"Everything checks out," he handed them the papers back. "You're going to want to follow the main gravel path until you reach the 'Ranch House' and then take a right. That's where the office here is located."
"Got it," Arthur nodded as he tucked his wallet back into his pocket. "Thank you."
Their vehicle moved forward through the gravel path as they drove past groups of infantry training, and a small motor pool where vehicles were being worked on, in particular, there were over a dozen artillery pieces that were in various stages of disassembly arrayed over the entire thing as what looked like recruits tried to piece them back together.
"Lotta artillery for a smaller unit. I bet they use that to even the odds a bit."
"I don't know the make or model of those," Morgan spent a bit more time looking at the vehicles. "But given they've got the tow package? Yeah, they use it to give them an edge. Pirates normally don't deal with arty, so I imagine they get hammered on the way in, and out."
"And with the hitch, they can haul extra ammo or maybe some extra hands to rotate out if they're firing enough salvos."
"Regardless, this is our stop," Arthur parked the car. "Looks like it's time to get started."
Next step for some runaways[]
"We're putting you in with the dropship crew," an admin person handed Katrina a note. "We've got a big need for people who are capable to assist with that. You'll be with Lieutenant Hober aboard one of the DroSTs. I know they're not much to look at, on the outside, but they're slowly doing some refits."
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DroST II Class Transport Dropship
"No, this is fine," Katrina smiled. "I'm surprised you didn't put us through a boot camp experience."
"We don't have the time or capability to do that at the moment," the man rubbed his eyes. "Unless you're so new to this sort of lifestyle that we've got to break you of bad habits, we're relying on the leaders of each unit to get them accustomed to us."
Katrina's brain then latched onto what the problem was. The Marksman had way more machines than people to use them, and while they were being picky with hiring, if an engagement happened, they'd be only taking a fraction of the available forces to combat anything that landed.
"I'm going to be a part of a tank crew," Arthur said as they met back up. "Where did you two end up?"
"Dropship crew," Katrina replied. "I think Morgan ended up in a 'Mech."
"Yeah," he frowned. "They've got me in an Archer that's been in existence since before the Star League fell. They claim they've brought it up to modern standards, but I'm not so sure."
"But you're in a 'Mech. Just like you wanted," Arthur slapped his relative on the back. "Now let's make the best of this and get acquainted with our new positions."
There were two identical dropships in the middle of the field, both aerodynes with engines that looked designed for VTOL even more so than others she had seen. And at the nose of the dropship, there was something interesting, a man wearing a mask and wielding a sprayer was covering the nose of the ship with precise bursts of paint, the sprayer switching to different colors as the man manipulated the sprayer.
Mesmerized, Katrina stood there and watched until the man finished painting, then removing his mask, he peeled off the protective layer around the nose art, the pinup standing out sharply against the gunmetal gray of the dropship.
"Very nice," Katrina finally said. "You sure you don't want something a bit more risque though?"
"Hmm?" the man turned and cocked his head. "Nah, this was just the first attempt. I figured this was a good way to make it a bit unique, y'know? Besides, I'm Taurian, and this felt like it fit."
On the nose was a pinup wearing what would be best described as a sexualized Farmgirl, nothing too revealing, but it was obvious where the inspiration came from, with a nuke held in one hand, and a middle finger in the other raised high.
"I'm Lieutenant Henry Hober," The man peeled off the coveralls he was wearing. "You must be my new gunner?"
"Yes, sir." Katrina shook his hand. "Recruit Katherine Smith reporting for duty."
"Well, then let's get you settled in," Hober tucked the PPE into a nearby satchel. "Dropship crews bunk together, and I've got to sort your paperwork out. Then we'll figure out where to start you on the sims."
"Simulators? For a dropship?" Katrina asked.
"Kinda?" Hober made a halfway gesture with his hand. "We don't skimp on training, today's just a light day. But tomorrow, we'll be burning fuel and ammunition to get our crews up to speed."
"Isn't that expensive and dangerous?"
"Better that we spend money on it now than pay for it with lives later," Hober replied soberly. "We're not here to play at war, we're here to put pirates into the ground while on this contract. And barring that, save anyone we can from those savages. Ammo and fuel are cheap compared to people's lives. And we hold massive live fire exercises every two to three months involving nearly the entire unit. You just so happened to sign up right before the next one begins. Sorry to throw you into the fire, but we've got three days to get you up to speed. I hope you're ready to burn some midnight oil because we don't half-ass things here."
Unusual Introduction[]
"I'm sorry?" Arthur asked, not sure he understood.
"Hand me that wrench," a woman barked. "We've got to get this Hunter back up and running, and I need you to hand me that wrench so we can do that."
"Which one?" Arthur glanced at the tool kit.
"Fuck it!" the woman swore, climbing out of the tank and dropping down, revealing herself to be much shorter. "I'll take care of it myself."
Angrily, she snatched up the wrench that was lying on the lip of the tank before diving back down into the hatch.
"I'm Arthur Jones," he tried to introduce himself.
"I know who you fucking are," she pointed at a nearby folder with his picture attached to the top with a paperclip. "You're assigned to my tank, and I need you to help me get it up and fucking running, so put on some work clothes, and get your noble ass into gear!"
"Sir, why are we doing this?" Morgan asked as he followed a man around the motor pool, the two of them stopping at every single artillery piece and lending a hand where needed until they were reassembled.
"Because we're all a single unit here," Sheppard turned. "We fight as one, or we lose as one, We take this very seriously. And you won't step foot in a 'Mech unless you've got a great deal of humility about you."
"Copy that, sir." Morgan glimpsed Arthur getting chewed out by a woman covered in grease before averting his gaze. "Where do we get started?"
"Well, after this, we get to go help the secretaries and admin staff file paperwork, and then we hit the sims in preparation."
"Preparation for what?"
"If I told you, it'd ruin the surprise."