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Mirrorsmoke Company
- Chapter 5 -[]
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Somewhere in continent of Nordmarka
New Oslo, Draconis Combine
September, 3018
I was once taught that you could know a man by the state of his home. Sure, it had been from the minders, a not so subtle push to be more aware of the state of our living quarters. But there might just be a wisdom there that was true.
It was as if I was back in my old room again. Bare walls, a few pieces of furniture, along with the only thing for recreation: a modestly sized flatscreen to watch the curated collection of channels for the average Combine citizen.
By his lonesome, Howard Langstrom lived and breathed his life spartanly.
It was quiet, with him and 'Lucius' sitting across from one another in what passed as the dinner table. The high noon sun had now shone brightly through the naked windows, giving the house some much needed heat and light. However, nothing seemed to help the cold atmosphere that seeped off the old man like the coming winter.
The rest of us elected to stand. It was only polite; we hadn't actually been told to sit and we weren't quite guests. We'd be leaving soon anyways. I stood by the archway that connected the living room to the kitchen. Behind me were the twins, who held their distance close towards the main entrance. Should anything happen, they would have been the first to get to the door, while Emil placed himself just a few steps beside the old man, leaning onto the kitchen counter as if he owned the place. He was–as ever–stock still as a statue, but no less alert. Just in case.
The old man himself was like an unblinking owl. He gawked at our every move. Every step taken in his home was followed closely by a laserlike glare that I couldn't glean anything from, his face a stone wall of stern age.
Our eyes met, and I didn't look away. If he thought he could intimidate us–me, then he was going to be disappointed. I saw no anger, no hostility. Not even so much as a raised brow. He was studying me as much as I was studying him.
Then, as if after careful deliberation, he turned his gaze towards Logan and spoke.
"Vesterby isn't known for its hospitality, but this disgraceful showing leaves a lot to be desired. For that, I apologize."
Without even tilting his head, it was as if I had just witnessed the man perform a Saikeirei. Gone was the bitter old man who earlier had just threatened to club a person to death. There was a strange contrition in his words, and it hadn't been just me who caught it. Logan–equally–furrowed his brow in confusion.
"It all started a couple of days ago, nearly a week now, really…" Howard continued. A group of people were in town, looking to trade. It seemed fine at first, before things got violent. A dispute regarding the price of dried fish, of all things, resulted in the needless deaths of three men along with another five severely injured from gunshots.
It didn't stop there. The next evening came Battlemechs. They stood just on the edges of the town, ready to sack it if they had tried fighting back. In the end, they just closed their windows and locked themselves in their basements. Tried to ignore the screaming above ground. The scum had made off with twelve townspeople that night, the most of them young women.
By the time he finished his story, I was seeing red, shaking in place from the rage I was desperately trying to control. It was anger I didn't know I could feel again. I was about to speak up, to beg Logan to do something about it.
But I realized it wasn't just me. There was a lethal air around my brothers, from the way their muscles tensed on every word uttered. From the way their faces slackened, bereft of any emotion that betrayed their intent. We were all seeing the same thing, in our mind's eye.
Tracking and killing them all to the last. No matter how ridiculous the idea was. Those people would be long gone by now, in some far away system never to see their families again.
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Panther Light 'Mech
New Oslo I was by far not the safest of places under the aegis of the Combine, with it being the sole planet housing the factory that produced Panthers. There were plenty of pirates stupid and desperate enough to try and target the transport dropships, only to meet a gruesome demise at the hands of local DCMS forces.
That being said, the rest of the planet was unremarkable in comparison. There were far more enticing places to raid in the surrounding systems than here. That Vesterby only managed to lose a handful of people from a raid was a miracle of impossible chances.
I'd heard of far bloodier stories.
"That's… alarming," Logan said, "My condolences for the loss."
"That's why you need to leave," Howard said, "All of you. This town won't be welcoming outsiders for a while."
"What about the local garrison?" I asked. "If they had 'mechs then it stands to reason they'd have a dropship too. Surely the Prefect can spare a few ASFs to their rescue?"
"You think we haven't tried that?" he said, shaking his head. "If only it was that easy, son. Do you honestly believe a contingent of Combine forces will come to the beck and call of a bunch of dirt farmers?"
To that, I had no reply to give.
"Let me guess, with the town relatively in one piece, the Prefect–or whoever it was under him–didn't take you seriously." Logan said.
Howard nodded bitterly, fingers wrapping tightly into hardened fists at the memory. "Told us it was all a fanciful tale, and to fix our 'local disputes' on our own. The whole town's in mourning."
"Yeah, that sounds about right." Logan scoffed. He cupped a hand underneath his chin, his eyes briefly turning towards outside the windows. "Apart from the people, did they take anything else that night?"
Howard's hand began to brush over his salt-and-pepper beard as he mulled over the question. "Not as far as I'm aware, no."
That got Logan to sit up straight. "What about the women themselves, were they important to the town at all?"
Again, he took his time answering the question. "No. One of them was the daughter of a friend, but other than that they lived here, no."
Logan opened his mouth to speak more, but the old man had been faster. "Why are you asking me all this, Lucius?"
He shrugged. "Was just curious. Pirates aren't usually the sort to do a kidnapping raid, and they most definitely wouldn't leave a settlement standing after the act."
Howard snorted. "Well, before you try and accuse me of some conspiracy I didn't do, and me consequently breaking your nose right in front of your guards," he confidently said, making Logan laugh loudly. "No, I didn't help the pirates. If anybody in this town did, I'd kill them myself. We've never even been attacked before. We've kept our heads down, never made so much as a squeak towards the Prefect until now."
Logan held up his hands. "Never even suspected you, old man."
"Good. A lifetime ago, my loyalty had been to the Combine, you know this. Now, in these final years that I have left, they are for my wife's legacy. I'll be damned if I ever hear someone accuse me of something that heinous."
"Wouldn't dream of it."
The both of them smiled at each other. An earnest affection that I didn't think Logan could make–let alone would make–to someone who had claimed to have been a snake in his youth. That surprised me. There was history here that I was missing.
Logan made to stand, but the old man's hand reached for his shoulder, keeping him seated.
"One more thing," Howard said, "you have well trained men following your lead."
"Huh?" Logan furrowed his brow.
"Oh, don't give me that look, son. I've been alive for far too long for you to be able to trick me." He pointed to me, then to the twins. "Three men securing the exit, eyes as sharp and alert as DEST troopers I've seen in action."
I struggled to keep my face calm, a strangled gasp almost made its way out of my throat. The man worked with fucking DEST?
He then tilted his head towards Emil. "Then you have the little man over there. You think I don't know how a man stands ready for a fight? To kill? How he's perfectly positioned to flank me, hands twitching to quickdraw that little popgun he's got hidden in his jacket? All of you are trained. Lethally at that. Don't think I didn't see how you were all prepared to kill your way out of that mob."
Emil huffed from the remark sent his way, before slowly crossing his arms. Logan just laughed nervously. "Old man, the sun has finally baked your mind. We're not soldiers, we're all just astechs."
"Lucius, if that even is your real name, at least have the decency not to lie to me." He growled. "I had you stay under my goddamn roof for a week. I've never pried into your life, and you've done good work with some of the machines we have."
Logan kept his mouth shut.
"I've had my suspicions, from the way that you move, the way that you side-eye anything that gets near you, or how you always try to keep your back against the wall. Seeing all of you just confirmed it for me." Howard said, placing his hand back to the table. "Who are you really? The heir of a samurai house? A runaway noble?"
Logan sighed, putting a hand over his chest. "Hand over my heart, old man, we're just a couple of kids trying to get something to eat."
"Bullshit."
"God's honest truth. We were just looking for a job. I knew some of the old harvesters you had around still needed some parts. Parts that don't exist anymore. I figured we could probably convince someone that we can replace those–along with some maintenance work–would have gotten us a few months worth of food."
"You didn't answer my damn question, son."
"And I won't. If what I said wasn't good enough for you, Mister Langstrom, then I think a goodbye is for the best." Logan hastily stood up, his chair nearly falling down from under him. Without any words he made his way towards the exit, with us quickly following suit.
The cold breeze felt like a kick in the ass as we walked to the van.