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Chapter 1 – Under the Stars[]
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Talk among the Pine Needles[]
04/18/3051 | Miraborg Estate - Gunzberg, Free Rasalhague Republic
Pines swayed in the spring winds cooling on the exposed skin of the couple entwined in each other beneath a tapestry of stars. A young woman pulled back despite her partner’s lips on the nape of her neck. “We shouldn’t be doing this Phelen.”
Phelen Kell attempted to push himself up on his elbows, but she pushed him enough that he could feel the pricks of pine needles on his back. “Since when? You are the one that suggested it.”
She rolled off him and put her nightshirt back on, “I know, I know, but it was a mistake. I have to get home before my dad finds out. You know how he feels about mercenaries.”
“I thought he was over it.”
“Me to! But he has been steaming ever since arriving on Gunzberg about it.”
He stood up to stretch out and pulled on his pants hanging from a branch. “Well he should have made it a lot clearer to the Archon then while you both were on Tharkad. We already have plenty of work.”
The winds shifted so they could hear baying hounds and shouting. “Attans!” Tyra turned to Phelen who looked at his shirt then back to the road, “I’ll try to slow them down. Run for it!”
Needles scratched him as he dashed into the woods hoping he hadn’t forgotten everything from Seventh Kommando summer camp.
Colonel Patrick Kell signaled the gates to their compound marked with Kell Hounds Advisory Troop Scrapper’ open backed by the ‘Bad Dogs’ of the 2nd Kell Hounds Regiment. On the other side were three wheeled APCs from the 1st Gunzburg Mechanized Infantry. Their thrumming diesel engines filled the normally quiet night with noise. General Tor Miraborg’s stood before the trucks, his scarred countenance backlight by their powerful light bars.
“Morning General, appreciate your unit’s enthusiasm for training but you aren’t due here until oh five hundred.” Patrick looked at his watch, “It’s only two.”
Tor signaled back to one of the vehicles and a shirtless Phelen was escorted forward by a man wearing the Arms of the Miraborg Estate instead of the Kungarme’s insignia. The General kept a firm grip on him as he pulled him forward. “I found one of your strays trespassing on my property.”
Patrick looked him over and saw the scrapes and bruises that covered his nephew, “So you did. I appreciate you returning him to me in mostly pristine condition.
How did you get those marks kid?”
Phelen looked nervously back at Tor then back to his uncle. “I fell in the woods.
It’s a good thing the Estate Guards brought me back.”
“Report to the medic and get yourself cleaned up.”
“Yessir!” Tor released him as he walked past the armed guards standing behind the Colonel.
The First Mechanized started back to their vehicles, “I don’t want a repeat of this incident Colonel Kell. Keep control of your mercenaries. Gunzberg’s woods are dangerous and filled with all manner of frightful animals. One could get lost in them and never find their way out again, or worse.”
“I assure you it won’t happen again, Herr Miraborg.”
“Good, I will take your word on it as far as I can. See you in a few hours, Colonel.”
Tor walked back and into one of the APCs which closed its armored hatch and drove away.
“Are you going to let him threaten you sir?” Said one of the ‘Bad Dog’ Sergeants over the sound of the gate closing.
“I am Leo, he can’t do anything without consequence, but I am still going to put Phelen on that Elissa Garrison mission.
Just in case.”
I got story for you[]
06/22/3051
Union V LCDS Junkyard was anything but as it transported Company 222 of the Kell Hounds (that is 2nd Regiment, 2nd Battalion, 2nd Company). 222 had even received discounted passage aboard JumpShips belonging to the One Star Faith from Tamar to Elissa due to their celebrity status. Elissa gleamed green below them except in the few places where Grimm’s men had strip mined it for precious metals.
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Union Class Dropship, underway
Phelen Kell turned off the television which was displaying their view of Elissa’s moon Miranda into the galley, “There’s nothing worth fighting over down there, just a whole lot of nature. Why are we even here?”
Captain Michael Wilson looked up from his stew, “Because there are a bunch of rich pansy kids partying down there as part of that One Star Cult. Their parents are paying us to make sure they don’t get abducted by some pirates before they head home after getting it out of their system.
Haven’t you gotten out into the other Dropships?” Captain Wilson looked around at the other Mechwarriors, Pilots, and Ship’s Crew in the Galley. “I know a few of you did, even though I warned you not to.”
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Wolfhound Light 'Mech
“I’ve was just practicing with Grinner or sparring most of the transit.”
“Well, I’m sure you will get plenty more practice with your Wolfhound. Like you said, it’s unlikely we will get any action out here. I’m serious about this, the Stargazers are very open and ‘welcoming’ to strangers particularly such a well-heeled and handsome young mercenary like yourself but keep it in your pants.”
Michael firmly tapped his fingers on the metal table, “You’re here because Patrick had a real fear that you’d get shot for mingling with the locals.”
The rest of the galley laughed and turned the television back on to link with Elissa’s HPG for the latest Solaris news. Solaris Seven Insider appeared with its hosts interviewing the 22 year old O’Bannon sisters who with their matching Marauder IIs were currently fighting their way up the Solaris Top Twenty looking to dethrone Jason Bloch, the reigning Class Six champ. Elizabeth and Tanya O’Bannon’s faces appeared onscreen, their strawberry blonde hair was their most distinctive feature, but wolf whistles filled the room as the mercenaries paid closer attention to the plunging necklines of the twin’s shirts then the earrings or hair adornments that differentiated them.
Phelen retired to the mech bays where Recon Lance Commander Lt. Jackson Tang stood at the foot of his Clint (2-3T) next to Grinner, Phelen’s Wolfhound (1A), with a Hermes II (4K) and Cicada (3M) rounding out the Lance. Jackson paused his diagnostics and walked over, “Don’t let the Captain get to you.”
He pulled idly on the maintenance chart attached to the ‘cage’ that Grinner was stabilized in. “It’s not that, it’s just, you know.
I thought it’d be more like Patrick and Dan told me. My whole life has been training, with the Dragoons, at home, my year at Nagelring. Now I’m just babysitting some spoiled brats.”
“Plenty of good soldiers have gotten kicked out of Nagelring. They gave Roman the boot after knocking up a girl and then he almost took over Buckminster during Götterdämmerung.
Your uncle and brother-in-law only told you the exciting parts. You’ve already gotten a story and you haven’t even seen battle yet. You’ve got time, enjoy it before you get a history as well.”
“Thanks, El Tee.”
“Yeah, now get working on Grinner’s optics package, you can’t touch the log without doing something on it. That’s bad luck.”
“You made that up.”
“You want to chance it Mechwarrior?”
“No sir.”
“Great, we’re going groundside at dawn, Astrapolis time.”
“I can’t believe they called it Astrapolis.”
Jackson shrugged his shoulders, “Cultists are weird like that. Service your mech, check you kit, and get some shuteye. See you tomorrow.”
06/23/3051
LCDS Junkyard landed as dawn peeked its radiance over the windblown lake toward Astrapolis. COMSTAR’s HPG complex spread out over the Northern Shore as Astrapolis hugged the Western and Southern Shores. The Starport on the Eastern Shore was oversized for the small city of hundreds of thousands with a dozen spheroid pads and four runways for aircraft, shuttles, and aerodynes but revealed the One Star Faith’s ambition and High Visionary Egan Telosa’s fundraising ability.
As ‘Grinner’ walked past the hangers Phelen saw they held not only bush and float planes but private jets and luxury shuttles in addition to more functional ones. A trio of Beacons (Buccaneers) backed up to a quay as containerized Ergonomic Units marked with logos from across the Lyran Commonwealth were loaded onto barges by skeletal stackers and floated toward Astrapolis. “El Tee, the Kell Hounds don’t even have a fleet this large. How did the OSF pull this off?”
“They have had a couple hundred more years of history than the Hounds.”
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Clint Medium 'Mech
Jackson’s Clint paused to admire the Monarch tucked away on a quieter Southern portion of the pad. Its passengers milled, worked, or exercised in fashionable clothes on the shore during ‘Golden Hour.’
“That said, we clearly are in the wrong business.”
222’s quartet of fighters were already pulled into the two hangers that abutted the fenced in area that would serve as the Kell Hound’s Stockade. Their mechs walked into the weather-tight, solidly built, and partitioned Mech Dugout adjacent to their quarters. Captain Wilson’s Marauder was the last machine whose thunderous steps echoed off its barren walls.
Phelen descended the chain ladder hanging from a kneeling Grinner. He unstrapped his helmet shaking out short brown hair while holding the Neurohelmet in the crook of his arm as the others gathered before the elevator. “They better have at least a locker room for us Captain.”
“We can’t expect them to build us a full mech service facility. Even this dugout is more than I expected. We can move the field tools here temporarily, or you could just walk ten minutes to the dropship.
I expect we can rig up some scaffolding, so you don’t have to climb the ladder to board.”
Lieutenant Tang watched as the doors closed leaving them in artificial light except for some vent fans below skylights. “It’s a bit narrow. We can only deploy in double file.”
“If we need to go any faster than that then something has truly gone horribly FUBAR.
If you’d like you can keep your mechs outside, or in the dropship.”
The Hounds looked around to one another. “I think you’re correct Captain. It’s spacious and better ventilated compared to the dropship.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant. Anyone else have concerns? Or do we want to see if the mess is stocked as agreed?”
Ship’s Crew and Technicians arrived on a fleet of battered pickups with the bags shortly after shutting down the Junkyard. "You know what I take it back maybe these Stargazers aren’t so bad after all.” Xavier, one of the Hound pilots, dug into one of the baskets of fresh fruit and bread left on the stainless-steel tables, “These are some hotel level accommodations, except for the smell.”
“That should dissipate in a couple of days. Hey, Captain, this level of grub is included in the contract, right?” The Tech Chief said as he sliced a pear.
Captain Wilson sliced through a baguette and slathered it in jam, “They want to make a good impression, so I insisted on it.” He paused and held out the knife to accentuate his next point, “However, booze is not included!”
A groan arose from the 37 assembled Mercs. “Come on, Captain! That’s where they always get ya.” “Oh shutup. You can spend your own money to get tipsy in your off time but moderate yourselves. We must maintain the Kell Hound’s sterling reputation. You’ll see where all the bars are when we go on our tour this afternoon.”
That afternoon the Kell Hounds were aboard one of the larger ferries that plied Lake Kroeger between the Starport and Astrapolis. It was a dark city, even the Starport shut down at night to preserve the view for their nightly star viewing rituals. An observatory had been built in the nearby hills equaling that of the University of Tharkad but the main city plaza was capable of holding more of the faithful.
Phelen stood on the upper deck as the Astrapolis’ Mayor Cyrus Grissom explained the various aspects of their planned utopian community. He couldn’t help but feel uneasy knowing that the One Star Faith had a plaza with a Cameron Star pointing toward the setting sun allegedly for calibrating their telescopes. However, he knew a similar one, within the Wolf’s Dragoons Enclave on Remus. He had known a Kerensky too and if Natasha were still alive, she would have laughed in his face,
before probably punching it.
Touch down and Liberty outing[]
06/23/3051
LCDS Junkyard landed as dawn peeked its radiance over the windblown lake toward Astrapolis. COMSTAR’s HPG complex spread out over the Northern Shore as Astrapolis hugged the Western and Southern Shores. The Starport on the Eastern Shore was oversized for the small city of hundreds of thousands with a dozen spheroid pads and four runways for aircraft, shuttles, and aerodynes but revealed the One Star Faith’s ambition and High Visionary Egan Telosa’s fundraising ability.
As ‘Grinner’ walked past the hangers Phelen saw they held not only bush and float planes but private jets and luxury shuttles in addition to more functional ones. A trio of Beacons (Buccaneers) backed up to a quay as containerized Ergonomic Units marked with logos from across the Lyran Commonwealth were loaded onto barges by skeletal stackers and floated toward Astrapolis. “El Tee, the Kell Hounds don’t even have a fleet this large. How did the OSF pull this off?”
“They have had a couple hundred more years of history than the Hounds.”
Jackson’s Clint paused to admire the Monarch tucked away on a quieter Southern portion of the pad. Its passengers milled, worked, or exercised in fashionable clothes on the shore during ‘Golden Hour.’
“That said, we clearly are in the wrong business.”
222’s quartet of fighters were already pulled into the two hangers that abutted the fenced in area that would serve as the Kell Hound’s Stockade. Their mechs walked into the weather-tight, solidly built, and partitioned Mech Dugout adjacent to their quarters. Captain Wilson’s Marauder was the last machine whose thunderous steps echoed off its barren walls.
Phelen descended the chain ladder hanging from a kneeling Grinner. He unstrapped his helmet shaking out short brown hair while holding the Neurohelmet in the crook of his arm as the others gathered before the elevator. “They better have at least a locker room for us Captain.”
“We can’t expect them to build us a full mech service facility. Even this dugout is more than I expected. We can move the field tools here temporarily, or you could just walk ten minutes to the dropship.
I expect we can rig up some scaffolding, so you don’t have to climb the ladder to board.”
Lieutenant Tang watched as the doors closed leaving them in artificial light except for some vent fans below skylights. “It’s a bit narrow. We can only deploy in double file.”
“If we need to go any faster than that then something has truly gone horribly FUBAR.
If you’d like you can keep your mechs outside, or in the dropship.”
The Hounds looked around to one another. “I think you’re correct Captain. It’s spacious and better ventilated compared to the dropship.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant. Anyone else have concerns? Or do we want to see if the mess is stocked as agreed?”
Ship’s Crew and Technicians arrived on a fleet of battered pickups with the bags shortly after shutting down the Junkyard. "You know what I take it back maybe these Stargazers aren’t so bad after all.” Xavier, one of the Hound pilots, dug into one of the baskets of fresh fruit and bread left on the stainless-steel tables, “These are some hotel level accommodations, except for the smell.”
“That should dissipate in a couple of days. Hey, Captain, this level of grub is included in the contract, right?” The Tech Chief said as he sliced a pear.
Captain Wilson sliced through a baguette and slathered it in jam, “They want to make a good impression, so I insisted on it.” He paused and held out the knife to accentuate his next point, “However, booze is not included!”
A groan arose from the 37 assembled Mercs. “Come on, Captain! That’s where they always get ya.” “Oh shutup. You can spend your own money to get tipsy in your off time but moderate yourselves. We must maintain the Kell Hound’s sterling reputation. You’ll see where all the bars are when we go on our tour this afternoon.”
That afternoon the Kell Hounds were aboard one of the larger ferries that plied Lake Kroeger between the Starport and Astrapolis. It was a dark city, even the Starport shut down at night to preserve the view for their nightly star viewing rituals. An observatory had been built in the nearby hills equaling that of the University of Tharkad but the main city plaza was capable of holding more of the faithful.
Phelen stood on the upper deck as the Astrapolis’ Mayor Cyrus Grissom explained the various aspects of their planned utopian community. He couldn’t help but feel uneasy knowing that the One Star Faith had a plaza with a Cameron Star pointing toward the setting sun allegedly for calibrating their telescopes. However, he knew a similar one, within the Wolf’s Dragoons Enclave on Remus. He had known a Kerensky too and if Natasha were still alive, she would have laughed in his face, before probably punching it.
Fishing outside hills Atrapolis[]
07/02/3051
‘Grinner’ knelt next to an old watermill and spring house within the hills outside Astrapolis. From his perch atop the gangly light mech Phelen Kell could just see through the summer haze onto an observatory dome above the bright green deciduous forest.
“I see you’ve found my fly-fishing hole. Superb recon MechWarrior.”
Wolfhound Light 'Mech
He peered down at the man shouting at him from almost seven meters below that wore a broad hat, long sleeved blue shirt, and pants while carrying a tackle box and fishing rod in his hands. Phelen dangled down to find ‘Grinner’s chain ladder and descended to stand before him. “Who are you?”
From close he could see that one of his hands was a different shade than the other and could see his reflection in the blue polarized sunglasses. The mysterious man placed his tackle box on the mossy ground and extended his normal right hand to Phelen. “Dmitri Mastok, Psi Branch.”
Phelen extended his hand cautiously and exchanged a firm handshake. “Phelen Kell, MechWarrior”
“I’ve seen your Mech around the Starport from the North Shore. What brings you out here?”
“Honestly, I was bored. This assignment seems like a waste of time, and I was looking for a quiet place to think.”
“About what?”
Behind them the stream trickled relentlessly on its course to Lake Kroeger. “Just things.”
“I find that fishing gives me the freedom to reflect on ‘things.’”
“What kinds of things?”
“Probably similar ones.”
The mercenary looked down at his off-colored hand and fishing rod, “Were you in combat?”
“Yes, and before you ask which one. All of them since MOUSETRAP.”
“But you don’t look that old.”
“I’m not,” Dmitri retrieved his tackle box and walked toward the stream, “I just started early.”
Results of Dragoon Training[]
07/06/3051
The sun shone brightly through the canopy, beams of light dappled onto the stream as a gleaming trout leapt from the stream hooked by wading anglers, was reeled in, and processed before it found its way into the solar cell augmented cooler behind Phelen.
“Did the Hounds put you on dinner detail?” Dmitri said as he pulled in his own catch and put it into a bundle nearby.
“These are for my personal use.”
“Thinking of becoming a pescatarian?”
“When I was with the Dragoons all they ate was what grew in their aquaponic systems. They said their ships were more home to them than any world could ever be and kept ship-board conditions and discipline even though they were on land.
Unfortunately, you had to catch your meal first. So that’s how I learned how to fish, which was helpful in wilderness school because I am a terrible trapper.”
“I learned how to fish to extend my rations. And not be eaten by giant crocodiles in the process.”
“Giant Crocodiles?”
“Yes, they can reach over thirteen meters long within the Parung River basin.”
“That’s bigger than my Battlemech.” ‘Grinner’ knelt behind them partially obscured in the old Mill’s shadow.
Dmitri’s line sunk into the depths, “I would give it even odds in a fight.”
“You had to dodge something that big?”
“Oh no, you could see those ones coming a long way off and they prefer sandbars in the inaccessible parts of the river. I only saw two larger than six meters in my ten years there.
The more numerous two-meter ones will kill you just the same and those liked the shore.
It kept the prisoners in line, far better than we could, no one escaped.”
Phelen paused for a moment to collect himself and process what Dmitri was saying. “How did you end up joining COMSTAR?”
“Lack of better options after the Andurien Succession. The Blessed Order will find a use for anyone that can pass their tests. House Fujita had given me a well-rounded education although it had cost me an arm and leg in the process.”
“What does Psi Branch do? I don’t hear about it often.”
“It’s COMSTAR’s facility management arm. We do normal things like:
Painting.
Carpentry.
Cleaning up messes.
Handling fissile material on occasion.”
“Handling fissile material?”
“Class B HPGs only have a fusion reactor if the Order can sell enough power to the local community to make it a worthwhile investment. Its one of the key differences between B and A.
Elissa’s runs on three small modular fission units and that’s just for redundancy. Only one is operating most of the time. The photovoltaics are there just because COMSTAR already has the easement, and Astrapolis will buy the power.”
That evening Phelen walked into the mess with a cooler in hand beneath the eyes of his peers.
His lancemate looked him over, “How far does that tan go, MechWarrior?
Were you skinny dipping with one of the locals?”
“You’d like that wouldn’t you, Julian.”
“Everyone has got telescopes out at night. Not all of them are pointing up.” Julian looked around to some of the other Hounds who burst into laughter. “If you know what I mean?”
Roy, one of the Junkyard’s crew followed him into the kitchen,
“You having a party? Without inviting us.”
He loaded the vacuum-packed filets into the freezer and rinsed out the rest under the vent.
“That better not have been the beer cooler.”
Phelen gave him a wry smile. "I like mine room temp."
"The Dragoons made you a savage."
Communication Breakdown[]
08/01/3051 - 00:40
Red lights blinked on COMSTAR’s HPG transmission dishes and antennae on the northern shore of Lake Kroeger. It serviced a planet of a few million but most of their customers were local to this time zone so they could get away with most of its two hundred personnel working on day shift to service the clients of the Order’s newest HPG, High Visionary Egan Telosa and the One Star Faith.
Rho Adept XII Dmitri Mastok worked the graveyard shift manning the security console within a central cell with more blank screens than people. Video feeds cycling through from the perimeter, lit by Miranda’s moonlight which reflected in the photovoltaic panels, to the dimmed corridors and courtyard of this lakeside monastic compound. His company, beside a pistol on his desk and video feeds were a pair of unfortunates that Precentor Christina Andalo preferred to keep busy at night, under his sharp eyes, and away from the public ones.
Sigma Acolyte Jasper Jacobs and Psi Acolyte Trevor Kastano flipped cards behind him. ‘JJ’ as he referred to himself plopped a stack of coins on the desk which was matched by Trev. “Mirrorshades are you ever going to tell us why you ended up on Elissa? Who’d you piss off?”
Dmitri’s glasses mirrored the video feeds before him, “I was assigned here by Nu Branch, just like you.”
“Nothing else?”
“Should there be? This is like any other assignment in COMSTAR.”
“That’s a full load and you know it.” Trevor folded to JJ and reset the play, “Elissa is one step away from an Explorer Corps Outpost. The only reason this station is here is Telosa’s message hurts the Archon enough that it makes her enemies give him money.”
“Well then you should be working harder to get off this world and go to somewhere more pleasant.
I find Elissa’s HPG relaxing. My former residence was also beside a large body of water. Although there are less carnivorous creatures in Lake Kroeger than there.
I admit to missing them, they were an easy way to make problems disappear.”
“You genuinely creep me out Mastok.”
“Thank you for the compliment, JJ.”
01:20
JJ’s console lit up as he snapped to and pulled his headset on to answer a radio transmission. “Good morning, this is the Elissa HPG, Sigma Acolyte Jacobs speaking. How can I help you?”
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Union-C Class Dropship
Above them the Union-C, the CGB Lazuk came around to orbit. A tall blonde man with white fur lined coat and a bear claw tattooed on his face shouted into the handset much to the chagrin of the techs pooled beneath him. “This is Star Commander Vasily Cote, of Clan Ghost Bear’s Three Hundred and Twelfth Assault Supernova. We will bring about the return of Kerensky’s heirs and The Star League.
What forces defend this world?”
The line went blank, Vasily looked around the bridge before roaring at the uneasy Techs around him “What happened!?”
“Looks like he hung up on you, Star Commander.”
“HE DID WHAT!” The handset cracked as Cote clenched both hands on it as the Techs scattered or donned their helmets.
Vasily slammed the handset on the deck shattering it into dozens of small pieces which flew around the bridge bouncing off screens and consoles.
“YOU DARE TO REFUSE MY BATCHALL!”
Below Jasper hung his headset back onto the stand, Trevor and Dmitri looked back at him, “Who was that?”
“Someone claiming to be part of Kerensky’s something or other.”
Trevor went back to pretending to pay attention to the utilities board, “Only on Elissa. Freckin’ Weirdos.”