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Chapter 18 - Time Enough For A Cat -
- The End of the Beginning -[]
Next Weapons Revolution[]
NAIS Main Campus
New Avalon, Federated Suns
June 14th, 3027
Fun fact: every professor at NAIS had a notional office they got to use. Mine was a cubicle in an office farm that smelled faintly of SHS coolant and myomer grease. A room barely three by three meters, it had exactly enough room for my desk, computer terminal, fax machine, and an office chair. Normally I didn't use it much, but after Sofia decided that my ears made great handles I was learning to appreciate the place- and keep the window open to help vent it.
Unfun fact: I had to have office hours posted and attended every day so students could find me. Since a lot of students liked me for some reason, likely my low-homework system and assigning material for reading they'd need to do for other classes anyway, that meant I usually had two or three people in there. Today it was just Doumont, a young freshman who had a lot of trouble with the concept of developing a synchronization matrix. Considering the synch matrix was a highly dumbed-down version of how the AFFS actually compiled orders for the multi-headed dick hydra that was large and complicated ops, I was seriously considering advising her to major in something that would let her transfer out of mech piloting and into the logistics corps at some point.
Either way, we were bent over the desk when someone knocked at my door. Getting up to open it, I frowned slightly: we had only about a quarter-hour left of office time to go before I could- read, must- go home to play with my daughter.
Opening it, I blinked. The woman outside my door in working khakis was the model of an old Army Grandma: lean muscle under gently-sagging skin, hair that blue-white that active people got as they aged as gracelessly as possible over their ironlike frames. She could have been anyone except for the marshal's batton ranks on her shoulders.
"Ma'am," I said, bowing slightly. "What can I do for you?"
"Use my name, for one," she replied. "Field Marshal Yvvone Davion. I'm here about that new wonder-weapon you lit the development boys' ass on fire with: Battle Armor, they called it."
"NAIS finally cooked up their own version?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. "Well hell, it's about damn time."
"Yep," she said, tossing a folder on the table. "That's the specs. There's one catch, though: I need your suit operators as training cadre."
"Until we need to get to our jump-off points for the War, sure."
That earned me a flat stare. "Not asking about the money?"
"Not like this place is liable to get attacked," I said, "so as long as you're covering a decent fraction of the operations costs and any training-related expenses, I can deal."
On the face of it, that was a terrible deal- but I was assuming a Field Marshal would be read in on Hanse's plans to invade the CapCon, so my position as being semi-permanently barracked here would ideally start to make more sense. To that end, this wasn't a job-job, this was a subsidization of my running costs while I waited around.
"Here's the contract," Marshal Davion said, tossing the folder on my desk. "Fairly standard: 70% of peacetime running costs, full compensation on munitions used, full replacement of assets expended with local-made derivatives. Pay also includes sixteen suits so your operators can get used to the units, which will be issued on lien until the end of contract."
"Sounds good. Can I see the suit specs, ma'am?"
Another folder, this one handed to me as the Marshal sat down in one of my chairs. Smiling, she pulled out a small flask for a nip and stared at me looking at her. "Don't mind my rank for a minute: what do you think?"
Getting the spring style and cover sheet out, I started looking over it. Thirtysomething kph on ground, no jump capability, double manipulators and left arm mag clamps. "You're looking to integrate this with infantry," I muttered, paging around. "Slap an autorifle or a manpack SRM in that hand, and that's a lot of durability for the kill. Two hundred kilos BAR-10 for some very good protection, which is good since you'll have to have these things hanging off the outside of APCs."
"What makes you say that?"
"Mag clamp. Otherwise with this speed you'd want a battle claw to let you swarm enemy mechs," I said, tapping my head. "Most pilots never realize they've been swarmed until the damage reports come in about missing armor or blown actuators."
"Interesting."
Continuing to read, I started skimming. Spare power pack, ten kilo lunchbox, and here we go: integrated weapons. Right arm, one machine gun. Fairly normal. Torso, though, we got a light recoilless rifle. That, that tickled something in my brain. Light recoilless rifles were an old poverty swap option, ere my memory didn't deceive me. Going to my bookshelf and grabbing an old journal, I started paging through it. Poverty replacements on battle armor, no I didn't want Mersies' notes on Elementals god her Mandarin was chickenscratch… aha! There we go.
"So, you want me to say the quiet bit out loud?" I asked, tapping the design. "Because your NAIS boys forgot to hide they were working up some secret shit."
"What kind of secret shit?"
"Man-portable gauss weapons."
That earned a raised eyebrow. "Well that's an interesting inferment, Colonel Nyan."
"The only reason I'm making it is because Gauss weapons scale down easier than they do up, and I know when I sold the First Prince the Friendship Treasure Trove there was info on the tech in it. If you can't whip up full-sized guns reliably yet, just go smaller."
"Your thoughts on a hypothetical gauss-derivative, then?"
I smiled. "Absolutely fucking terrifying. A magshot would be the gun that doesn't stop shooting, and more importantly has the range and damage per minute to savage other battle armor and light vehicles. You'd lose a lot of viability against plain infantry, but an integrated machine gun means that's a very secondary issue. Don't knock the recoilless rifle models, though: unless there's unforeseen issues, I'll likely be very happy with what they bring to the table."
"Interesting to note. Thank you for your thoughts, Colonel. When should Mercenary Command expect to get your contract back?"
"I'll need a week to get it properly scrutinized, of course," I said. I was a professional, after all. "If it's not too improper to ask, what's your expected rollout on this suit?"
"We're looking at doing a company per battalion of infantry."
"I'm going to, as politely as possible, suggest a battalion per regiment," I explained. "The more operational freedom they have, the more your suits can exploit their unique advantages, like going back to re-armor after engagements. A company supply unit can't keep up with that: a battalion's can."
"Excellent remarks, young man. I'll have an attache for you when the contract is turned in."
As the Marshal Davion walked out, Doumont walked back in with a slight tremble. "Was that-"
"Yeah, that was," I said, putting the folders under a coffee cup so they wouldn't get lost.
"And you-"
"Yes, I did."
"Isn't it scary?"
Looking at Doumont, I sighed. "In every Mechwarrior's life is the rather likely chance they end up doing something, anything, to end up as the protagonist of a cheap TriV drama show. So far, fate has laughed at me and decided my genre is 'political drama' and really at this point I'm getting used to it."
"It still seems frightening."
"Wait until you get nuked, kid. That's when it really hits the fan."
A Big Day for a Little Girl[]
NAIS Married Staff Dorms
June 14th, 3027
"Happy birthday, Sofia!" I said, smiling broadly as she toddled forward towards me. In something that sent Anne and I over the moon, she'd finally started walking, toddling around the apartment waving her hands and laughing. I was sitting on the floor, not bothering with the eyepatch, and occasionally taking a picture with my now-worn in bionic eye. It was adorable is what it was, and she flopped into my lap with a burble.
"Dada," she said, babbling happily.
"Yes. Cake day!" I said, looking over at the counter where Anne was dishing. Fortunately for us, Sofia earned her name and recognized the word 'cake', gasping.
"Cake?"
"Yes, cake day. Your cake day."
"Cake! Cake! Cake!"
Giving her a slice, Anne sat next to me and watched as Sofia looked at her cake carefully, trying to decide how to handle this issue. We could practically hear the abacus beads clacking in her head as she considered how to handle the issue, before she screwed her eyes shut, reared her head back and opened her jaw, before diving fastfirst into the plate with her cake on it.
"I don't want to make predictions about our daughter now," Anne said lightly, "but I think we're gonna have to get her a King Crab if this is how she approaches something like this."
"I'm not trying to find a one-year-old a King Crab-" I started, before Sofia threw herself out of the cake, breathing heavily as she picked a piece up in a hammer grip and proceed to shove it in the vague direction of my mouth, smearing it all over my cheek. "-thank you, Sofia," I said, patting her head.
"Ears?" she asked, blinking.
"Yes, ears," I said, patting her ears.
"No. Ears," she said, very determined, holding her hands- still covered in cake- over her head and flickering them around like Anne's and mine. "Eeeeears."
"Want ears?"
"Yeh!"
Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck code red code red code red fuck fuck fuck
"We have to talk to Nǎinai about it," Anne said. "Nǎinai give people ears."
"Ok!"
"Really?" I muttered in Mandarin. Since Anne wasn't as fluent as me, we didn't speak it around the house too much: perfect for when we needed Sofia not to help talk.
"If she's getting the life extensions, might as well get her the ears at the same time," Anne said. Well, okay, that's what I think she meant to say: some of those words didn't go together like she thought they did.
"We'll talk to Grandma Szeny about it," I said, sighing. "I still don't like the thought of her putting a child under the knife. Who knows what she'll try and sneak in?"
Anne, about to answer, stopped as someone knocked at our door. That was odd- most people just called, instead of going through NAIS security. That, or we met them at the bar.
"Guys, it's me, Howler," Howler yelled. "I brought Sofia a gift!"
Reaching into the couch under the cushion, I slowly pulled out a pistol holster. Loading it, I put Sofia down next to me, before making a 'shush' gesture and pointing under the couch. I hated that every week we taught our daughter how to get under the furniture to hide, but if anything happened in the apartment we needed to know she was as safe as she could get. Going up to the door, Anne looked through the peephole carefully. "Nobody else in the hall, and I see the guest lanyard," she said carefully.
"Good to open."
Opening the door carefully, Anne saw Howler, who quickly rolled her eyes at her friend, before rattling something off in Japanese. This got Anne relaxed enough to let her in, so I safed the pistol, unloaded it, and shoved it back in the couch.
"Sofia, more cake and Auntie," I said, which got her out right quick.
"Auntie!" she said, running up to Howler and hugging her leg. Naturally, this got cake all over Howler's skirt, which just earned a sigh.
"Good thing I remembered Sofia likes to share," Howler muttered, smiling
"Mama! Auntie cake!"
"No, Sofia, Auntie isn't cake."
"Cake Auntie! Cake! Cake!"
"Cake for Auntie? Is that it?"
"Cake Auntie!"
"I'll get Auntie some cake then," I said, standing up to the kitchen. "What's got you here, Howler?"
"Well, uh, I didn't want to interrupt, but we got an HPG message in. Whole company."
"What's the message, then?"
"Your mother sold us out. She's now the Duchess of Palm, some do-nothing pisshole, in exchange for her shares in the Blades."
"Motherfucker," I snapped. "That's a third of the company right there."
"We need to get some of Szeny's shares," Howler growled. "Half of them should be enough."
I should explain. The Harvest Blades, legally, had their shares divided three ways. One third went to Dr. Gallowglass, one third went to Dr. Szeny, and the remaining third were distributed among the material operators: read, mechwarriors and dropship captains. I'd bought out our dropship captain within the first week we'd made landfall less one century than we started, and both Howler and Sokoloy had given up their shares as part of the wedding gifts to Anne and I. Now, though, that the Magestirx was holding a third of the shares, we needed to make sure that Szeny didn't follow suit.
I didn't know which would be worse: never seeing home again as we were doomed to eternal deployments, or being trapped in the den of snakes with Kyalla as queen viper of the lot.
"We'll go over with Sofia tonight," I promised. "Szeny might be heartless, but even she understands her daughter needs something to live on."
"You'd use your daughter for that?"
I smiled with a hint of bitter bile at the edge of my lips. "Howler, I would kill for Sofia in a heartbeat and sleep like a child after. This is harder. This is getting her close to a bastard who'll try and steal her away without any questions."
"Makes me glad I'll never have kids," Howler muttered. "Being Auntie is hard enough."
"Yeah, but Sofia loves you for it."
"That's what lets me keep doing it," she admitted, before reaching up to give me a kiss on the cheek. "Now c'mon, Anne actually makes decent cake."
Sighing, I just plated up cake for us, and went back out. Now that Sofia had 'shared' with Howler, she was gonna 'share' with Anne and I: mostly by smearing her cake into our hands and going "Cake!" at one-year-old volumes. The mood lightened, though, as Sofia played with her presents: baby's first maglight torch, a couple of blacksmith's puzzles, and a one-year-old sized helmet. She wanted a toy fireman's helmet, but it offended me on several personal levels to buy a piece of something masquerading as armor that wasn't actually protective. So I called Yang, who called NAIS, who called my librarian, who called Sokoloy for some reason, which bounced back to me somehow at some point I couldn't really track.
The how wasn't important, because the result was Sofia had a Star League era Children's Survival Helmet now, the sort that they got if their bunker in the Castle Brian was getting shelled for some reason. So now we had an adorable daughter, wearing her brain cage, walking about- and whoops there she went, fell over there-
"Yay! Head good!"
-putting her helmet through its paces apparently.
"Dada! Dada! Walkies!"
I blinked. "You want to go to the park?"
"No! Walkies!"
"You want to go to the playground?"
"No, walkies!"
"You want to go watch the training ground?" Anne guessed, shooting me a look. Playing twenty questions with Sofia was hard.
"Un!" Sofia said, before toddling off to her stuffed animals collection. Aside from a few of the usual stuffed bears and whatnot, she'd also gotten a collection of stuffed mechs. Digging out the Cyclops in the collection, she took it over to me, crawled in my lap, and then started dancing the stuffed mech around. "Walkies."
"You want to see Dada at the training ground?"
"Mmmmmm"
Now Sofia was going into my bedroom, before she started digging around. Blinking, I saw her get my helmet from it, before bringing it back and putting it on my lap. "Walkies."
Finally, Howler brought up her thinking hat, before smiling. "You want Dada to take walkies in his mech and bring you along?"
"Yeh!"
I blinked. "Howler. How am I supposed to do that."
"Your carseat has options for a standard Star League five-point harness," Howler said casually.
"How do you know that?"
"Because I made sure of it when I bought it."
"Right, looks like we're taking Sofia for a walkabout later," I muttered.
Planning for the Future[]
NAIS Staff Apartments (Medical Division)
July 15th, 3027
I would thank every lucky star I knew that Dr. Szeny wasn't the sort to inspire fear in children. That meant one of the three people coming into her cozy little space wasn't afraid, at least. Anne and I were both near-vibrating furiously, and holding it together was going to be difficult.
As Sofia played with her stuffed Cyclops on the floor, I settled down on the couch with Anne nearly in my lap. Her lack of Mandarin was going to hurt her here, and I'd be the primary point of contact for more than just cultural reasons: there were even odds that Dr. Szeny would be maliciously twisting her words so only a very fluent speaker would understand her.
"So, I guess my granddaughter finally managed to make it understood she'd prefer to match her parents," Szeny said clearly. "Daughter, you might not be a geneticist, but I hope you at least understand husbandry to get better bloodstock for next time."
Anne bristled, but I shook my head. "We're not here to discuss the marriage," I said, trying to play peacemaker. "We want to make sure Sofia's future is safe, in case anything happens to us."
"Oh, don't play with me, boy." Szeny shot back, a cruel glint in her eye. "Let my daughter say it."
"We would like you to help," Anne said, trying not to slip her words, "to get some finance security- fiscal security- for Sofia. In case we lose her- no no."
"Oh?"
"In case she loses us."
"Well, that's an admirable reason as any. What sort of security are you looking for?"
"We were hoping you'd be willing to give her part of your shares in the company," I said, taking a deep breath. "At least fifteen percent, so she can take up an officer's position when she comes of age."
Szeny smiled. "I'll do you one better: twenty percent, if you let me do her initial modifications. Genetic alterations for her cat ears, the physical prosthetic frames, and a neuroplasticity booster that'll help her when she inevitably gets the DNI set at, oh, fourteen or sixteen?"
I couldn't say anything. Neuroplasticity modifiers were some dark science: testing was hard, and they frequently needed a lot of tailoring and correctional medicine by a pharmacist who'd been in on the project since the beginning. That said: they worked. I'd seen the results dozens of times, and we were talking fifteen plus points of IQ in their favor without loss of EQ. The issue was, it meant that until Sofia was, oh, twenty-five or so, she'd need regular contact with Szeny as that bitch held the pharmaceutical reigns on our daughter. Worse, it might interfere negatively with the life extension program-
-fuck! The lifespan extenders!
"Would it negatively interact with any other genetic work?" I asked carefully.
"No way in hell. This isn't some modern cludge, this is an uptime formula I got from the Diamond Sharks, and I already did tests with the DNI system and the standard telomere cleaners you'd see on 'life extension' stuff," Szeny said. "Incidentally, while I won't forbid you from visiting those hacks for their version, just know it has side-effects. It retards aging- and that means all aging. Expect puberty to last roughly eight or nine years if you dose Sofia with it."
I looked at Anne, and she looked back. I trust you, and am willing to take the consequences of this.
"We need another team in the room to examine your handiwork, and maybe learn something from it," I said, leaving unspoken the "and make sure you don't cram extra shit in there" out.
"Fine. Book the appointment through the school, bring whoever you want," Szeny said. "I'll be waiting.
An Invitation and logistics that comes with it[]
NAIS Main Campus
October 22th, 3027
Death, I thought to myself, to all trolling monarchs who thought the best time to release news was over lunch so that all my classes were riled up like someone had thrown a lance of Firestarters into a Star of Elementals.
"Class, settle down!" I yelled. "We're gonna get to the damn wedding shit later!"
"But professor-!"
Horking a piece of chalk at the 'but professor', I let rip a mighty glare. "We will cover it later. We will cover it to death even. Now, can you all please shut up so I can call roll?"
The class did not shut up. God damn it. Then my phone started ringing, so I just went over to my desk, bending my ear flat so I could mostly put the speaker on it and rest the cradle on my jawbone. "Room 512, Professor Gallowglass speaking."
"Ah, Colonel Nyan," I heard a voice I almost recognized say with a smile. "This is the office of the First Prince."
"Great. Any particular reason you're calling?"
"Well, the First Prince wanted you to know that the wedding invitations are out, and that there's some social order to how they'll be delivered. Your invitation is covered under the fourth tranche, should be serials 345-350 for your party."
"We're being invited by name?"
"Yes; mostly so that we can use the Argo to carry some baggage. It's been requested by ComStar that we don't bring the Royal Fox to Terra, in an attempt to keep tensions low."
"The First Prince does understand that the Argo eats two collars by herself, right?"
"It's been explained, yes. However, and to quote Sortek, 'that thing is the equivalent to walking up to a bugmech meeting in a Grasshopper and asking about the buffet' and I'm still not sure what he meant by that."
"It means the Argo wet-masses at ninety-seven thousand tons."
The classroom shut up real damn fast then.
"Ah."
"It's a colony-builder ship, it's gonna be a little fat!"
"I'll leave that out of the transcript. Any questions?"
"Yeah, how many infantry bays does Hanse want us to cram in for other guests? I figure if we give him Gamma Pod, that means we can take Beta and probably cram the rest of the minions in the hull's bays."
"I'll, uh, I have to forward that to the majordormo."
"Great, we'll get back to you on ticket prices then!"
"Thanks. We good?"
"We good."
Putting the phone down, I stared at the class. "What?"
The class was silent.
"I thought so. Textbooks to chapter thirty-six, "On Alliances, Temporary or Otherwise."
My glare was ironclad until the phone rang again. Staring at my class, I picked up the phone. "Professor Gallowglass speaking."
"Nyan, listen, the Magestrix got invited to come to the wedding. She accepted, and is going to be coming soon!" Howler babbled.
"How much of the court is she bringing?"
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Princess class passenger DropShip
"The entire Succubus is loaded to the brim: one aerospace carrier, two Princesses. News just came in from our home office on Canopus. They're picking up an Auregian delegation on the way, and then it'll be everyone and your mother here."
"Please tell me that we're not expected to do anything."
"Nope. We're on security, and on finding quarters for the delegations. Preferential mission selection, it's in our charter for over twenty percent shareholders."
"Well, put some of the battle armor and the kids on it. They've just about graduated, right?"
"Two of 'em, yeah."
"Perfect time for them learning about ancillary responsibility. Have 'em round up a platoon of squishies, give 'em a few squads of crunchies, and that's the honor guard."
"Got it, boss. We'll be good."
"Thanks, Howler. Toodles!"
"Ciao!"
The class was still staring at me, and two people had their books open to completely the wrong chapter. Glaring at them, I sighed.
"Doumont."
"Yes, professor?"
"You remember what I told you in my office?"
"Yes."
"Exactly."
Doumont, who had the energy of a particularly moribund squirrel, gulped. "I didn't think you meant it that literally, sir. Was, uh, that the First Prince on the phone?"
"No-" I said, as the damn thing started ringing again. Picking it up, I resisted the urge to groan, instead just opening up a full barrel of snark. "Gallowglass Affordable Federally-Funded Sundries, how may I brighten your Day-vion today?"
"Well," Hanse said, and I felt my soul fall out my boots, "I'd really appreciate a couple of fresh grid squares, a can of striped paint for my Beemer, and maybe a consultation on the new guests we're scheduled to get in a few months."
"Do you want it in person or by emails, sir?"
"Both. Once Quintus gets back, he'll be doing his own scan, but I'm not ignoring a trained intelligence officer under my nose. More importantly, I'm willing to give you a hand with a little problem you have."
"Oh?"
"Mau and Raas aren't subtle names- and if Kyalla wants to mooch off my hospitality, she can learn to live with my standards," Hanse said with that affable sound that reminded me nothing so much of watching a glacier advance. "Let Emma know that my previous memorandums about her housing are retracted."
"Your majesty," I said, looking over my class and now nobody was pretending to be doing anything except watch me, "This is, ah, a lot to spring on a fellow."
"Yes, well, I've got enough irons in the fire making sure everyone gets their due. I'm delegating a bit more than usual, don't worry about it. Now that- well, you don't need to know that- is gearing up for some new tricks, I'd do best to follow suit."
"Your majesty?"
"Oh, can it," Hanse muttered. "You'll do fine. Now, hang up the phone and get back to class, I need to get the finance ministry to audit a few idiots who think I don't recognize the signs of chronic tax evasion. Play your cards right, and I'll let you keep the mansion when I'm done."
"Thank you."
"No, shoo, back to work. Now where did I leave Yvvone's office number?"
I just quietly hung up the phone, and stood there, before breathing out. "I'm not going to pretend we're getting things done today," I admitted. "Just get some chairs around here, we'll write today off as a study session, and I'll just hope nothing catches on fire any time soon."
"Professor," Doumont said, very carefully. "Please don't jinx it."
I shook my head, before sitting down to put my head in my arms. "I just wish I could go home today."
"Me too, professor. Me too."