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Prologue - Fortunes of War[]
“The best techniques are taught by the survivors.”
-Tai-sa Shinji Gaida, head of the Galdeon Military Academy, 2964-2985
Outpost
Rasalhague Military District, The Draconis Combine
January 26, 3009
The repetitive, warbling alarm tone that drew Samuel Blixt out of his reverie was meant to warn him that an enemy was potentially trying to acquire a weapon targeting lock on his Panther. Samuel, once of the Draconis Combine Mustered Soldiery’s famed Sword of Light regiments, was unconcerned. There were, he well knew, no enemies taking aim at his BattleMech across the taiga, no forces of Houses Davion or Steiner anywhere within hundreds of light years, in fact. Outpost was too deep inside Combine space and too far out towards the Periphery rim to raid, and there was nothing of military value for the Combine’s ancient enemies to target in any case.
The only weapons that could be pointed in Samuel’s direction at the moment were those of his charges in the Outpost Planetary Guard BattleMech Training Cadre, and if he ended up getting killed by them, then he supposed that meant he had failed in his duties as an instructor fairly catastrophically.
“Kurihara!” Samuel barked over the radio. “You understand that today’s live-fire exercise is complete, yes?”
“Yes, sensei?” Even through the radio, the cadet’s voice betrayed confusion and fear of anticipated embarrassment.
“And yet, your targeting gear isn’t switched off, and I’m going to guess that means your weapon safeties aren’t engaged either. Correct this error before you scratch my paint or incinerate an unfortunate technician.”
A hundred meters away, the Whitworth piloted by Cadet Tommy Kurihara jerked, its torso swinging to one side to take the weapons mounted in its chest and arms out of line with Samuel’s 'Mech. “Yes, sensei!” came Kurihara’s abashed reply. “Apologies, sensei.”
“If your own 'Mech bay is in sight and the enemy isn’t." Samuel said, hoping he sounded less exasperated than he felt, “weapon safeties should be engaged. Besides that, sweeping friendlies with your targeting reticles is a bad habit, in general.” He paused to allow himself time for a sigh, then keyed his transmit button again. “All callsigns acknowledge.”
“Acknowledged, sensei!” came the chorused reply from the cadets.
Samuel watched the four trainees - Kurihara in the Whitworth, Rikard Hemming in a Firestarter, then Viveka Huld and Roshan Lindberg in matching Stingers - parade single-file into the cavernous 'Mech bay before he turned the Panther from its position by the doors and entered himself. Together, the five 'Mechs - one reinforced lance in the standard organizational scheme of the Great House militaries - made up the entire BattleMech strength of the Outpost Planetary Guard.
The four cadets were already lined up at parade rest by the time Samuel finished the Panther’s shutdown procedure and clambered down from the cockpit to the ferrocrete floor of the 'Mech bay. The massive doors of the bay were still open, framing the setting sun and letting in the icy wind sweeping across the taiga outside. Some of the cadets were already starting to shiver in the “uniform” of boots, shorts, and T-shirts that most MechWarriors favored to cope with the sauna-like heat inside a 'Mech cockpit.
“Tomorrow at oh eight hundred we will review your performance from today’s live fire target practice." Samuel told his charges. “Until then you are dismissed.”
“Yes, sensei." the cadets chorused once again, bowing, and then filed away.
Samuel sighed again and then turned his attention to a short, stocky man wearing the grimy coveralls common to BattleMech technicians. “Any problems today, Sho-sa?” the tech asked, holding out a weather-beaten DCMS field coat.
Samuel grimaced as he draped the coat over his shoulders. The tech addressed him with the rank he technically held in the Outpost Planetary Guard, an officer’s rank, high enough to ordinarily command a battalion in the DCMS. But the world’s militia was not even technically a part of the Combine military, and in his entire career with the forces of House Kurita, Samuel had never risen above the rank of sho-ko - what the other Great House militaries would call a sergeant major. In any case, Samuel held no day-to-day authority over anything except the BattleMech training cadre, today’s batch of four cadets plus a dozen others, splitting seat time in the lance of ancient BattleMechs and dreaming of proving themselves worthy to join the ranks of the DCMS. None of them would ever make it to the elite Sword of Light, Samuel knew. But a few, if he did his work well, might someday serve the Combine with honor in a less distinguished unit, like one of the district Regulars regiments.
“No problems, Persson." Samuel replied. He cast his gaze down the line of BattleMechs. “Is Senior Technician Söderlund here today?”
“Senior Technician Söderlund took leave today, sir." the tech said. “A personal matter to attend to, he said, in the capital.”
Samuel nodded. “Yes, of course. I must have forgotten.” Am I getting so old? Samuel thought to himself. Or did I simply block it out of my mind?
The tech had not yet walked away to conduct his post-sortie inspection of the Panther. “What is it, Persson?”
The stocky tech looked like he was trying to hide a smile. “You have a visitor, sir.”
Samuel chuckled. He looked around the 'Mech bay, satisfied himself that the 'Mechs were all powered down and there was no heavy equipment being moved, and then smiled back at Persson. “Fine," he said, “let her in before she shakes the whole base to pieces.”
A few moments later Samuel was almost knocked to the ferrocrete floor by a slightly-built girl of eight or nine who came streaking across the hangar at roughly the speed of a short-range missile, red-brown hair flying behind her in the freezing wind still coming in through the 'Mech bay doors. “Morfar!” she shouted as she buried her face inside his field coat.
Samuel returned the child’s embrace until she let go, then shrugged off the coat to drape it over her narrow shoulders instead. “Katryna." he said, with mock sternness as he looked down into her elfin face, “Did you lose your parka again? Your mother will be cross with me if I bring you home without it, then she will be more cross when I remind her of how she used to lose hers when she was your age.”
“I left it in Tai-i Holmgren’s office." she said. “He let me sit with him while I waited for you, but it was boring.” Samuel suspected he owed the Tai-i a thanks and an apology.
“Did you know you’re the only one who calls me, Katryna?” his granddaughter asked. “The teacher asked if I hadn’t ever wanted a nickname, something shorter." she burbled. “I wanted to be Kat but there’s a girl named Katja in my class too and she said I couldn’t be Kat because sometimes people call her Kat, even though I’ve never heard anyone call her Kat, so anyway everyone ended up calling me Kit.” She wrinkled her nose. “I guess it’s okay.” The girl paused, searching for a lost train of thought, found it. “Oh! So I asked mamma once what was wrong with the name Katryna, and she seemed like she didn’t want to talk about it, but then she told me it’s the name of the lady from House Steiner, the new Archon.” The child frowned indignantly. “But I looked it up and it’s not even spelled the same!”
Samuel looked deeply into her blue-gray eyes. “It’s a fine name, just the same. It was your mormor’s name.”
“Besides!” the girl continued, “The Steiner lady is in charge there anyway, right? Where we’re going?” Her face grew troubled. “Me and mamma and pappa?”
Samuel nodded. “Yes, Galatea is in House Steiner’s space, the Lyran Commonwealth. Although there are people from all over the Inner Sphere there.” He forced a smile. “How did things go for your pappa today?” His son-in-law was nearing the end of a months-long process to secure visas for his family to leave Combine space. Leaving me behind.
The girl’s shrug was barely detectable inside the oversized field coat. “I don’t know." she said, “I came here to wait for you before he got back.” Her face went from somber to a full frown. “I don’t understand why we’re leaving. Why can’t we all stay here with you?”
Samuel forced cheerfulness he did not feel into his voice. “Because your father is a very good BattleMech technician." he told his granddaughter, patting her on the back. “Too good to spend the rest of his life here working for a militia that only has five 'Mechs. On Galatea he can use his talents and make a better life for you and…” Samuel swallowed a lump in his throat. “...And your mamma.” He gestured at the frozen twilight outside. “You have too much life for an empty, cold place like this, granddaughter. This is a place for crusty old relics like me.”
Katryna’s face made it clear she was not mollified. “I wish pappa was a MechWarrior like you, instead of a technician.” Her nose wrinkled again and she said the word like it tasted bad in her mouth.
“A foolish thing to say!” Samuel chided her. “You know that in the Draconis Combine people like to think of MechWarriors as samurai?” He pantomimed drawing a sword, and instantly the girl brightened, imitating the gesture and dropping into an exaggerated guard stance she had undoubtedly seen in a holovid drama. “But what good is a samurai without someone to forge and sharpen his sword? And haven’t you had fun when pappa shows you how he fixes the 'Mechs?” She nodded. Samuel glanced out at the darkness falling over the taiga. “Besides." he said, “I’m not a MechWarrior anymore.”
“But you are!” the girl shouted. She was once again indignant, more outraged even than when she had related her discovery that the Archon of the Lyran Commonwealth had the audacity to share her name but spell it differently. “You pilot a 'Mech!” One of her small hands was balled into a fist, the other pointed up at the Panther.
Samuel shook his head. “It takes more than sitting in the cockpit of a 'Mech to be a MechWarrior. After all." he continued, poking her arm playfully under the tent-like coat, “You’ve sat in the cockpit of this Panther. Are you a MechWarrior?”
The girl flushed and looked down. “No." she admitted. “Not yet! But what I mean is, anyway, you were a MechWarrior! A good one!”
Samuel stared into the girl’s earnest, shining eyes and sighed. He walked over to the Panther’s broad foot and sat on it, motioning for Katryna to join him.
“Let me tell you a lesson, granddaughter." he said as she sat. “From one who was a MechWarrior, once, and has seen many battles. Are you ready for the lesson?”
Katryna nodded solemnly.
“This is the lesson: it’s far better to be lucky than good. Once, thousands of years ago, battles were fought with sticks and stones. Now battles are fought with 'Mechs. But one thing is the same today as it was all the way back then: there are always warriors who fight well, fight honorably, and still lose… still die… because they were unlucky.” He reached out and stroked her wind-blown, disheveled hair, shining coppery under the lights of the 'Mech bay. “If you ever become a MechWarrior, Katryna, remember that lesson.”
The girl stared back at him for a long time, her face shadowed by the towering BattleMech, her eyes unreadable, as though she were somewhere far away. Then suddenly as if a spell had broken she smiled at him. “Morfar?”
“Yes, granddaughter?”
“Can I sit in the cockpit of the Panther again?”