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Mirrorsmoke Company
- Chapter 15 -[]
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Dwelling in the hollow halls of the Vault[]
Massif Vault
New Oslo, Draconis Combine
October, 3018
[16:16] LOCAL TIME
As punishments go, this by far was the most lenient I've ever had. Once I heard what it was, I accepted. A perfect reason to get my thoughts away from today's revelations and to focus more on the task at hand.
Fifty-seven heads followed me around, marching practically in lockstep as they walked, naturally dividing themselves into six columns. While their training was second nature to them by now, the Dracs at least hadn't yet broken into their curiosity and astonishment at what was around them. Their heads were swiveling all around the hangar bay, trying to make sense of their new surroundings. From flying drones carrying goods and materials, to the working subalterns going about their day in small vehicles.
Then, over the horizon, the remains of the BattleMechs we slew lined in rows, moved by large shifting floor panels and elevators that transported them into upper parts of the base for maintenance and repair, where our larger manufacturing facilities resided.
To the new kids, it might as well have looked like they stepped into a city of metal, as we ventured deeper down the Vault. And I was sure there were still more rooms, more places hidden in plain sight or lost from ages long past. They could explore the place for weeks and they wouldn't even know half of what was behind its walls.
"This tour is going to be like a maze," I called out to the group behind me. I could have wrangled some subalterns, had guides easily take them from one place to another, but I wanted to take my time. In my experience, there was no better way to remember directions than to be exhausted walking to them. That, and I wanted to ease them slowly into their new environment; get their heads out of boot camp for a bit, and enjoy the sights. "I'll be taking you to the mess hall, and then after that we'll be going to some recreational areas that you can join in."
They quietly followed me to another set of elevators, fitting all of us with more than enough space left to spare. Briefly, I imagined the base filled to the brim with people, thousands of them living here for long periods of time.
"Where do you think they've taken us?" I heard somebody whisper.
I turned. It hadn't been meant for my ears, but I still heard it. It was from a girl in the front row, hand sweeping away black spikes of hair from her face as she spoke to one of her siblings beside her. When our eyes met, she, along with some within her close vicinity, immediately straightened themselves. "Sir!"
"We're hidden inside a Castle Brian," I answered coolly, trying to avoid sounding authoritative or intimidating. The last thing they needed was thinking they were giving away their collars to a different master. "We think the SLDF dug out a hole, and this was the result."
Upon telling them that they were now inside something out of legends was like hearing a dam breaking, and the facade of trained soldiers broke as a deluge of gasps and awe flooded out of the group. Some of the younger ones even bounced in joy and excitement.
It honestly put a smile on my face, seeing them relax a little. It was as if they got to be a normal kid again, if only for a tiny bit.
Good. Now that the ice had been broken, some of the more braver kids were helping me with easing the remaining tension off. I could sense that there was still wariness, a tautness in their bodies that was ready to bolt into action, just waiting for the other shoe to drop.
"How big is this place?" One of them asked, waving his hand to try and catch my attention.
"You'll see."
I just let them see the view as the elevator opened. A rush of warm air immediately filled the compartment, and the feeling of blazing simulated sunlight sent them reeling for a split second, completely surprised by the impossible.
Put simply, the Vault was like an underground skyscraper. A series of elevators of different sizes spanned down its large swathes of floors, allowing for ease of travel down a hole nearly five kilometers in length. Each floor had its own sections, and in fact, some of the upper floors were so large that we could have a farm built to feed thousands, and we'd still have the space to build a few houses alongside it.
"Woah!" one of the younger kids shouted. "It's like the inside of a spaceship from this Holovid I watched!"
I laughed. "You're not the only one who had the same idea."
In a lot of ways, he wasn't far off. Honeycomb pod beds that reached up the walls, tight rooms and corridors that needed a ladder to access, or were even placed high above in the ceiling in some places. I reasoned it to be just some sort of immersion training for the old SLDF soldiers, getting them used to the idea of living in space. I wouldn't even be surprised if there was a button somewhere that activated artificial zero-g in some floors.
And the length of the place alone? No ship in the Inner Sphere–even at the height of the Star League era–could get this big. I shook my head inwardly. The Vault was a Castle Brian, not a ship. Logan would have told me.
"So, are you all MechWarriors?" another asked, pulling me out of my thoughts. It came from a boy, whose eyeglasses were missing one of its lenses. I would have to take this one to Erwin. He'd probably have something to fix his eyes. "Can we see one up close?"
"Some of us are," I answered easily. I could tell that he had been dying to ask those questions. "And sure, once we get to the end of the tour. I'm confident some of my siblings are eager to show off their BattleMechs. Maybe you can even get to ride one in a sim pod if time permits."
His smile was infectious.
"Siblings… Are you orphans too?" a voice asked. He pushed himself out of the crowd, arms pulling aside some of the kids in the front row. Their formation reformed as quickly as it broke.
It was clear he was older, probably the oldest out of the bunch, just like I was with mine. A portion of his years was spent on harsh training. I could tell from the crooked nose and his left ear missing an earlobe. Two scars ran down his lips and on his eyebrow, making him look like a thug after a street brawl. It didn't help that he kept his head bald; practically clean shaven save for the recently growing patch of black.
He looked at me with stark bewilderment, surprise on the arcs of his eyebrows to find a kindred spirit.
"Yes," I said, "we all are."
His voice rose, hearing that got him more confident. "Let me join you," he snarled. "You're up against the people who did this to us, right? I want to help!"
All of a sudden there was a group of kids clamoring behind him, all eager to get their hands dirty once they heard the declaration.
I shot up my hands up to my chest, gesturing them all to calm down.
"There'll be time for that!" I let my voice rise a bit. "But first we need to get you all settled. Now all of you have a vendetta, I understand, but you just got through a terrible time and you need rest. We'll let you get your bearings straight."
We continued walking in silence, all the way to the mess hall. The entire time, Baldie was right behind me, his gaze boring a hole through the back of my head. It was like he was afraid I was going to run away.
The mess hall itself was barebones, but huge. It could fit a hundred people and then some. Back in the early days, it was where we slept before the subalterns cleared enough of the machinery and vehicles to get to the sleeping area.
As soon as we gathered, automated robotic arms came to life and started serving us. The kids spent their time looking at the moving arms rather than the food being prepared. A gruel of crushed up printloaf and gel, flavored with vegetable stock and fried chunks of salted meat. It was decent fare, nothing lavish. They ate it without complaints, all of us too used to eating anything to survive. And I'd wager what they had back in that remote area was rationed and in small portions. Here, at least they could eat to their fill.
"My name is Jon, sir," Baldie came up to me, just as I was about to finish my meal. "And I'd like to apologize for my outburst earlier, sir."
I waved a hand. "No need for that. We're the same age, I think. My name's David, but you can call me Dav."
He proceeded to take a seat beside me. "But aren't you a MechWarrior?"
"I am. Doesn't mean I want to be called a sir. I don't have a rank. We're technically not even an outfit."
Jon raised an eyebrow at that. "What does that mean?" he asked. "You mean you're not a part of any unit?"
"It means we're on our own," I said. There was something terrifying about that. Picking a name for ourselves meant that we were now something official. An actual organization. I suppose that had partly been why Logan hasn't chosen to name us anything, at least for now. We were just so focused on lashing out at the Dracs that what we were called wasn't important. "The ones who choose to fight get to be trained. Even get a 'Mech."
"Figures," Jon grumbled, placing one of his arms on the table. "Being an orphan puts you on the sidelines. Is that why they put you here with us? Orientation so they don't have to bother with the refuse?"
I laughed. "Nah, You'll meet my kids soon enough."
"Where are they anyways?" Jon asked.
"Training," I said, "Feel free to join them jogging early at six. They like to run laps around the upper floors."
All of my kids have been doing whatever they wanted. Trident and Bjorna's Arrowhead were still in the field, of course. Batch-2 was almost always inside the sim-space, if not exercising regularly. Day in and day out, they had logged more hours than all of us in Batch-1. They were just about ready.
The Washouts had their own courses, if not practicals. The med-techs were busy with their own simulators, and I knew a few of the kids in engineering were having the time of their life trying to devise some new toys for those of us in the field.
Jon was eager, drumming his hands over the desk. "Good, I like the sound of that. I'll be putting my people to their paces once we get off our asses. We'll show your superiors we're useful. You'll see."
I shook my head. "None of that here, Jon. You ask your kids if they want to join, not force them."
"I can't just let them freeload on the food! Those who don't work, don't eat."
"Ignoring the fact that they're all just kids," I started, "What makes you think soldiering is all they need to know?"
Jon furrowed his brows. "That's all we know. What else is there for scum like us?"
"Well, they can be better," I said, crossing my arms. "We have kids here who are more than just trained killers. Some of them who didn't want to fight, they chose to be our medics, our engineers."
"We can do whatever we want to?"
I nodded, giving him a smile. "You're free now, man. Take some time to get used to it."
Anticipation to disappointed Lady[]
My cousins were nice, I decided. Timid, but who wouldn't be when all of sudden you regained the ability to make choices for the first time in a long time.
I had been ready to spend the whole day getting to know them better, until Bjorna had decided it was her and a few other Washouts' turn to show our cousins more of the Vault. But not before sending me off up the elevator with a COMP/CON in hand telling me the news.
Unfortunately, it seemed there was something happening down in Albany City. Trident needed Speartip's assistance.
I had been about to enter Logan's auditorium, when I heard muffled shouting towards the nearby rooms that the Washouts use to study. Curiosity got the better of me and I turned towards the commotion. To my surprise, the rest of my team save for Lisbeth were here. They all had their ears pressed to the door, listening intently at what had been most likely a dressing down.
Mack gave me an ugly look on her face as she saw me, urgently shoving a single finger to her lips as I drew close.
"What's going on?" I asked quietly, "Who's getting chewed out?"
"Lisbeth," Kristin said, "she did something with her 'Mech she wasn't supposed to."
I raised an eyebrow, glancing at Ed and Mack. "That true?"
"Fuck if I know," Mack whispered, shrugging her shoulders. "This shit's just funny. Never heard Logan get so loud before."
"No clue, Dav," Ed replied, his ear still pressed to the door. "She and Logan were here way before us."
That was weird. Logan always said we could customize our BattleMechs however we wanted. What did Lisbeth do that got him so angry? I joined in, knowing no other answer.
"—don't understand!" I heard Lisbeth hiss through the door. "This is a game changer!"
"No, you don't understand," Logan replied back, voice equally as frustrated. "The risks outweigh the reward. You need to stop snooping. For your own good, Lisbeth, you need to scrub that rig off your 'Mech."
"I earned this, Logan. I had to solve a six-stage cryptograph! You know what I got at the end of it?! Code!" The words were muffled and some of Lisbeth's tech terms were lost on me. "And if I'm reading this right? I can hijack moving, piloted 'Mechs! Not just screw around with their heatsinks, actually remotely control them like puppets!"
"Lisbeth, listen to me." There was fear in Logan's voice. "The puzzle wasn't just a test. When you solved it, there was a passage that displayed on the screen, right? What was it?"
"Yes," she said slowly, "It was…"
It turned quiet, then. At first, I thought Lisbeth was wracking her mind trying to remember the words, but I realized she was reciting something too low for us outside to hear. The sounds were flowy, a cadence to it as each end of the sentence rhymed even if we couldn't hear it. It was almost like a prayer.
Logan must have finished the passage for her, because she suddenly spoke up. "How did it–you solved one too, didn't you?"
He ignored the question. "...Look, I can let you mess around with the other tech chassis, but not this one. Not this one. This is what you've been doing these past couple of weeks on your downtime? Where did you even get it?"
"It was there when I first printed my 'Mech. A readme file embedded in my systems labeled 'For you' with a winky face, so I thought you gave it to me," she said, "Logan, what is all this?"
"I can't tell you, Lisbeth," he said, "just knowing more will make you keep asking questions. You need to scrub that thing off your 'Mech this instant."
"But think of the edge this gives us! What's got you so scared? You make it sound as if I'm about to make a deal with the devil."
Logan was practically pleading. "Because you are. Believe me. There are some doors that should stay closed, Lisbeth."
"At least tell me why!" she shrieked, frustration finally boiling over. I heard something slam. "All this time and you still choose to keep this cryptic shit close to your chest! We've fought for you, goddammit! Why won't you trust us?!"
That was when I decided to knock on the door. To all our surprises, the door hadn't actually been locked, sliding suddenly open despite the rest of my team still having their heads pressed against it. It made for a comical scene, and I would have even laughed.
If only the situation we walked in on had been anything other than deadly serious tension.
Lisbeth had Logan by his shoulders, her hands gripping tightly as she pinned him to the wall. She had her hardsuit on already, and was overpowering him considerably despite his prosthetic arm trying to push her away by her midsection.
"Okay, what's going on?" I asked the both of them, stepping inside. Ed, Kristin and Mack wisely kept to themselves outside. I kept myself calm, trying not to show anger or raise my voice. For all that they were combat trained, they are family. Siblings. I had to keep thinking that, hoping this wouldn't escalate.
Lisbeth had been about to speak, before she forced her mouth shut as she took her hands away from Logan, glaring at him all the while. He stared back, straightening his crumpled uniform. From the look they shared, I knew a silent agreement had been made just now.
"It's personal for the both of us." Logan grit his teeth, his eyes still fixed on his co-conspirator. "Hard to explain. I wouldn't even know where to begin, so I won't."
Of course it was, Logan.
He turned to us. "How much did you hear?"
"Enough," I said, and then looked at Lisbeth. I had to keep her head straight. "Is this going to affect the mission, Three?"
She immediately stood straight, schooling her features instantly. "No, sir."
"Can this wait until after the mission?" I asked, "Can you keep your focus on the mission?"
"Yessir," she said.
"Then let's get this briefing started." I turned back to Logan. "Trident doesn't have all day."
My team moved to the auditorium, and I stepped aside for Lisbeth as she quickly exited the room. I knew her. She was going to stew for a while if she was denied from whatever it was she had her sights on. Curious to a fault.
Logan himself tried to accompany them, before I put a hand on his chest. He couldn't resist. I just heard him sigh.
We stood there for a few seconds, allowing us to hear the footsteps of my team echo in the hallways.
"Be straight with me, Logan," I finally said, "This thing between you two. Is it dangerous?"
Slowly, he shook his head. "...Potentially."
"Damnit, Logan. Will this kill her?"
He looked me dead in the eyes. "No. In truth, it's even an advantage if I take the proper precautions."
"So what's the big deal then? Why keep your mouth shut?"
"It's huge, Dav. Not something I can just say in a few short sentences."
"Well, after this mission," I declared, "You, me and all the kids are going to have a long discussion about whatever the hell this is. If it's that big, it's going to affect them all too."
Logan chuckled. "Is it too much to ask for OpSec?"
No. Not this time, Logan. You can't keep all your secrets.
"Well, Lisbeth's right, Stray," I said, "We've fought for you. Killed for you. The least you could do is trust us a little. You owe us that much."
"I know," he said. He curled his lip, and his eyes were drawn to the floor, looking like what I just asked from him was something he couldn't hope to reciprocate. "Just keep an eye on her for me, please? I don't think she's going to stop playing with her new toy."
I huffed. "You already have your answer, Logan. You know her. She's going to have to get burned before she ever learns."
For his part, Logan didn't even seem angry. Knowing disappointment simply slid over his features, and a brief tone of sadness came out of his voice as he looked at me.
"That's what I was afraid of."