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Chapter 4 - Winged Praxis (Battletech 3015 CYOA)[]
Reprimanded for Stupidity[]
Lloyd Marik-Stanley Aerospace School
Republic of Kasnov-Greenland, New Olympia
Marik Commonwealth, Free Worlds League
2nd January, 3015
You're an idiot, you know that, right?" Captain Kumari was pulling no punches as she lectured me as I lay in the brig, left arm over my eyes. "What possessed you to punch Liszt right outside the commandant's office?"
Possessed, I thought. That's funny. It hadn't been my older reflexes that had swung my fist, at least I didn't think so. That struck me as a local choice. It certainly fit with a younger, angrier me. "No excuse, Ma'am."
Kumari rolled her eyes. "I didn't ask for an excuse, cadet. I want an explanation."
I groaned. "In my experience, they sound similar." When she didn't respond, I pulled my arm from my face and looked over at her. "I was provoked, Ma'am."
"Zalman," she said, "You know I need more than that."
"Does it really matter?" I asked, gesturing with my left to the cell I was confined in. "The facts aren't in question. I spread his nose across his cheek." I held up my right hand, which had my index and middle fingers splinted together. "Broke a finger doing it, too."
"It could matter," she said. Which was to say, no, probably not.
"He told me he was going to make sure that I was going to be cashiered." I admitted.
"Not his call." she said, with an offended tone.
"He thought so. Had a lot to say about how he was going to bring political pressure to bear. How I was ultimately expendable to the FWLM and the League as a whole. Weaseled his way around challenging me to a duel without putting his hide on the line." I mimed spitting.
"He said you threatened to assault him with a knife?" she asked.
"No, I told him I chose knives if he could find the courage of his convictions and go through with a proper challenge. Stupid machismo. Even if I won, I'd still likely be due a hospital stay." I shook my head. "Dumb choice."
"You are aware that as a cadet, you are restricted from dueling during your time at LMS?" Kumari's tone was chilly.
I did know that. But I hadn't been thinking then. "I was overcome Ma'am. Honor is a prickly matter back home." I gave a dark chuckle. "Besides, I would be willing to wait. The important thing is the willingness to face him with steel. Not the time."
"You aren't helping your case, cadet." She might have disapproved of dueling, but there was steel in her voice.
"Yes Ma'am," I said. I couldn't bring myself to apologize. That would have smacked of lying. "Anyway, he didn't accept, so no duel. He taunted me about how I couldn't do anything to stop him…and he told me my mother had thrown her life away for nothing. Screamed it, really, right in my face."
"Ah." The steel had disappeared.
"And I hit him. Didn't decide to, just kinda did it." I grit my teeth. "Played right into the pendejo's hands."
Kumari shook her head. "For what it's worth, Zalman, I doubt he intended to get hit by you."
I laughed bitterly. "Then why does that putz keep catching my knuckles with his face?"
Kumari actually cracked a smile. "Poor pattern recognition would be my guess." The smile disappeared into her disciplined teacher's expression. "We'll do what we can for you, Duster."
I stood and saluted. "Thank you, Cliffhanger. Whatever happens, I was privileged to have you as my instructor."
She returned the salute. "Personally, I think it would be a shame for the League to lose out on a pilot with your potential."
Talk between former wingman[]
En Route to Darienbad, 200 Meters ASL
5th January, 3015
It was a shame.
As I watched fishing catamarans chase a school of Hodgson's Flyers across the waves of the faithless Kasnov Archipelago, I shook my head. Truth hadn't been enough, and I hadn't been worth it, heroics or not. Due to 'actions prejudicial to good order and service discipline', I had been dismissed from my place at LMS. Just as Liszt had wanted.
Well, not quite. I had been dismissed very pointedly without disgrace. And I had been scrupulously honest in my testimony to the court martial. And between that, some other witnesses, and a cheeky recording or two that Terri had volunteered, it became obvious that Liszt was not.
Which is why he was in the troop bay of the Ferret VTOL flying trail to ours, headed to AMI for a court martial on charges of conduct unbecoming an officer. Couldn't happen to a nicer guy.
"Just not the same when you're not behind the stick, huh?" asked Terri over the sound of rotors.
"No," I said. "they never did warn us about that."
"What?"
"LMS. They could have warned us that learning to strap on a torch job would ruin us for flying passenger." I gave her my best smile, which wasn't very good.
"Negligent bastards." she replied with a brittle laugh.
We lapsed into silence for some time.
"Dad didn't want me to share those recordings." she admitted.
I had suspected, but it still sucked to hear. "I'm not really surprised."
"I told him to screw himself, that I was obligated by the code of conduct to give them to the tribunal." She bit her lip.
"Thank you, Terri," I said. "You didn't need to do that."
"Yes, I did," she said with such feeling that I didn't have any response for several minutes.
"I…thank you." I finally managed.
"For all the good it did," she groused. "This is so fucked. I warned him that if you were cashiered, I would resign."
I sucked in an involuntary breath. Her jumpsuit, unlike mine, still had LMS patches on it. "Terri, no! Tell me you didn't."
Her brows drew together. "I haven't…yet."
I blew out the breath in a rush. "Ay dios. That's good to hear."
"What the hell, Gid!"
"Perdoname?" I asked. "I just didn't want to hear you threw away your military and political career for the sake of a no-account sagebrush bandito like me."
She snorted. "Hardly no-account now, Gid. And I can't leave my wingman twisting like that, especially after I got you into this mess."
"Point, but irrelevant," I said to the reminder of my ridiculous windfall. "And this whole stupid scheme was my idea, not yours. All because I couldn't quite let go of the Mechwarrior bug."
"Yes, but I co-signed it. I made the bet, if you remember." She poked me in the chest. "It wasn't just you behind this."
"Maybe not, but it was still my plan in the first place. Whatever responsibility you have for it was contingent on my actions."
"Breaking out the five-eagle words, Gid?"
"Sure," I said. "Eema made sure I knew my readin` and `riting." It hurt to say, but it was a natural reflex. Besides, if I acted like everything was normal, I might be able to fool myself that she would be coming home. "Anyway, I don't have a choice in the matter. You do."
"So, what? You want to take that choice away from me?" Terri looked hurt.
I sighed. "No. I won't, and more importantly, can't do that. And it really does mean the world that you'd think of resigning in protest, Terri, truly. But you're set for a hell of a career in the FWLM. It's guaranteed that you'll find a place in a unit, what with having your own wings. And we both know you'll rise from there. You're connected, you're a good stick, and you've got good tactical sense. You'll make squadron command easy, and I wouldn't be surprised if you rose to wing command. T-Bone's Terrors." I said, gesturing like it was painted in the air.
She blushed a bit. I figured she would have known I held her skills in high esteem, but it was the first time I had said it without the trappings of a couple of pilots razzing each other. "Flatterer."
"Only the truth." I replied.
She recovered a bit of the more customary swagger we wore like our shades. "Are you saying that you don't want a squadron commander for your unit?"
"I'd be a fool to pass up a pilot of your caliber." I admitted easily. "But if we look at recent events, it might be argued that I tend towards foolish decisions." I gave a self-deprecating smile. "But more seriously, I have no idea what kind of hardware my father left. If it's a standard Leopard with full bays, that's air lance command at the most, probably wing-thing duty. If it's a standard Union, you might be the only fighter, period. And a lance is an asset…"
"A single-ship is a liability," she finished. "Okay, but that's a solvable problem. I know you don't want to go without aerospace support."
"No," I admitted. "But whatever my father left me is going to be a long way from a FWLM wing."
"What are you planning to do with it, anyway?"
"I don't know," I said. "Probably go mercenary for a bit at least. Probably the best way to season up. Probably fail. Most units do, pretty quick."
"What happened to your optimism and can-do spirit?"
"It's had a couple of knocks lately," I joked. "But I think assuming that things didn't go catastrophically wrong. I might transfer to being a local defense force for the Trinity. Might see about setting up some more gunnery and tactical training on Cerillos beyond the Mech handling we grow up with." I shrugged. "But a lot depends on whatever the TO&E is of what he left me. And whatevers in those files. He was a Lostech prospector. I might end up doing some of that. Gotta have security from pirates, after all."
"Gideon Zalman, planning ahead." She smiled.
"I'm shocked, my own self," I said, looking back out the window to see shoreline rushing to meet us. "Terri, I mean it, it is your choice. I'm grateful you'd even consider it, but I just can't promise anything if you follow me."
"Okay," she said. "Okay."
The Ferret went feet dry over Olympica. Neither of us spoke until the VTOLs grounded in Darienbad.
Invitation to the Periphery[]
Darienbad Airport
Darienbad, New Olympia
Marik Commonwealth, Free Worlds League
5th January, 3015
s I watched Terri walk away along with the other witnesses from LMS for Liszt's court martial, I was surprised to see a familiar face waiting for me on the tarmac.
"Ms. Kasparova," I said, walking towards the short lawyer, who stood in front of an idling luxury hovercar. "This is a surprise."
"Mr. Zalman," she said, holding the door open to the rear cabin and beaconing me in. "My sympathies. The tribunal's findings struck me as a miscarriage of justice."
"Were they a surprise?" I asked, climbing into a leather upholstered seat.
"No," she said. "They were not." She climbed in, closing the door behind her.
I could barely feel the lift fans coming up to power, and I couldn't hear them at all. As we started sliding, I could feel the motion, but I would have bet she couldn't, without my pilot's senses. It was a nice car with a really good driver. "So," I asked. "Why the pick-up?"
Phillipa smiled. "We had not concluded our business before we were so rudely interrupted." She motioned to the briefcase she had brought to LMS. "I took the liberty of collecting the items that were left to you." She handed me a scrap of paper. "The combination, along with instructions for changing it."
"Thank you," I said, unlocking the case. The sealed items were still sealed. A number of papers were on top.
"Those papers require your signature to confirm that you have taken legal possession of the items in your inheritance." She offered me a pen.
I read over the papers, signing each one. Nothing seemed amiss. "Anything else?"
The lawyer shook her head, taking the papers and checking over them. "Not as the executor of your father's will, no. Your copies, sir." She split off one set of the triplicate forms. I put them in the briefcase. "However, I was asked to convey an invitation to you."
"Oh? To Canopus?" I asked.
"Yes, Mr. Zalman. The Girin Sahar Landynski has expressed interest in meeting you." At my blank look, she sighed. "Your father's wife's granddaughter."
"Ah. I see." I drummed my fingers on the briefcase. "Well, I am at somewhat of loose ends at this point."
"As you say. The Girin has offered to pay the price of a first-class cruise back to Canopus. The DropShip lifts in two days. In some ways, the tribunal's decision ended up fortuitous."
"Silver linings," I mused. "I imagine that those coordinates are closer to Canopus than here, anyway." I nodded. "Well, I can't say this matches my expectations for getting cashiered, but who am I to turn down a free cruise?"
"Then you accept?"
"I do," I said. "Ms. Kasparova, could I trouble you to swing by the ComStar office? I have some messages I need to send. I'd also like to discuss setting up a will of my own, maybe a few endowments."
"Of course, Mr. Zalman," she said. "That will be no trouble at all."
Reflecting on things to come[]
Hotel Serena
Darienbad, New Olympia
Marik Commonwealth, Free Worlds League
5th January, 3015
I wasn't in the same room I had woken up in four days ago. Thank God. That would have been too much for me. The shower was just as good, though, and the stupid neurohelmet that had kicked off this whole series of events was sitting pretty on a dresser, just as before, reflecting sunset from its visor.
"I could just about smash you out of spite." I told it and the ghost it probably held as I toweled off my hair. Which would have been a monumental waste. For one, I had heard that a genuine SLDF neurohelmet could buy you an assault mech. For two, as a House Liszt heirloom, it might give me some leverage, or at least a bargaining chip in the future. God knew I wasn't going to use it. It obviously hadn't done Liszt any good.
And really, it hadn't been the thing that kicked everything off for me. That was courtesy of whatever pendejo of a debatably omnipotent being had decided that it was a good idea to slap a 21st Century mind that knew this world as part of a fictional property into a reckless 31st Century pilot cadet's body.
Speaking of which, what the hell was I going to do? Of course, yes, cruise, see just what Ephraim Adelman had left me in the way of a 'unit', staff it with some of the Southwesterners that my HPG messages would inevitably draw. And then what? I had knowledge of the setting, of it's future. That could be an advantage.
Or I did, assuming that the world I was in mapped to so-called 'canon'. That was a bad assumption. Sure, everything I'd seen seemed like it fit Battletech, but that didn't mean that I actually knew what was going to happen. Beside, I knew quite a bit, but my knowledge was skewed much more towards the 3050s. Thinking to the Clan Invasion, maybe it wouldn't be so bad if that particular nightmare wasn't going to come true.
So, what did I think was going to happen? I grabbed a pen and a notepad from the complimentary supplies the Hotel Serena had stocked the room with. I was pretty sure Anton's Rebellion was doomed. Something about killing off the Wolf's Dragoons CO's brother, maybe some of their dependents too. The NAIS was also a done deal. I was pretty sure that I had heard news of an AFFS strike on Kuritan logistics on Halstead Station III that went on for a month and featured both House Lords, along with rumors of the First Prince's intention to found a school. That would be the Halstead Collection.
I twirled the pen. What next? Katrina Steiner was going to put out her peace proposal sometime in the 3020s, and that led to the FedCom and the Concord of Kapteyn. There was that ridiculous doppleganger plan the Liao pulled on the Davions. There was the whole Dragoons experience with the DCMS that led to them building up the Ryuken, then ripping the guts out of them, along with their own. Shame about Tetsuhara. That led to the Death to Mercenaries order, I was pretty sure. There was some war games by both sides of the FedCom, leading up to the Fourth Succession War. That was all tied up in the crap with the Kell Hounds and Yorinaga Kurita's Genyosha. Silver Eagle affair, destined duels, apparent psychic powers…
Oh, and there was the ridiculous long con Justin Allard ended up playing on the Capellans, starting with a sham trial, hopping to Solaris, and then ending up as a top-ranking Maskirova analyst. Only to seduce one of Max Liao's daughters and run away with the St. Ives Compact. I had trouble believing that it could play out just as it had in the novels, but the line had always been that the novels were the gospel truth of how things went down.
What else, what else…
The memory core. Of course! The Gray Death Legion retrieved it and ended up spreading it across the Sphere as a whole, which if you asked me was a pretty decent thing to do. That was some time in the 3020s as well. Probably contemporaneous with the Fourth Succession War, actually, if I remembered a certain scene right. But they hadn't got the whole thing, or it was corrupted somehow. Something was keeping it from jumping the Sphere ahead of the slow reversal of the decay they would probably manage by the time it was found. Something other than ComStar.
If it could be retrieved properly, or earlier, it could do a LOT to make the Inner Sphere a less shitty place. Let's see…the Legion had found it on Helm, I thought, which was a graveyard for lostech hunters' dreams, according to my local understanding. Apparently, there was supposed to be some sort of SLDF supply depot there. Along with background radiation from a tantrum thrown by someone who didn't find it.
Apparently, it did exist. So where was it? A planet was a massive place to search.
I was drawing a blank. I should have known this. It was an important setting detail. It was referenced all the time. Had I never read the story where it was found?
Or had some giggling coño plucked the details of one of the most impactful finds in the history of the Inner Sphere out of my mind as they put me here?
"Fucking infuriating," I complained out loud. Suddenly I didn't feel like brainstorming about my knowledge of the future or finds I could pick up. I just knew that I'd come across what felt like a gap in my knowledge and end up raging at el diablo. Folding up the paper, I put it in the briefcase where it wouldn't get left behind for someone to see.
As the locks clicked shut, it occurred to me that I didn't need to do anything, really. I was set. With a JumpShip and DropShip to my name, along with shares in what was apparently a pretty successful lostech prospecting firm, I had a stream of income, not to mention a ridiculous bank balance. I was pretty sure, even with some of the least aggressive investment strategy possible, I could live an exceedingly comfortable life without even touching the principal. A life more comfortable than I had even dreamed of.
Even as the thought crossed my mind, it made me sick. I couldn't do that. The lifestyle of the idle rich sounded good on paper, but I knew it would drive me mad. I needed to be working towards something, for my own psychological health. Preferably something that made the world a better place. Actually, that was mandatory. I needed to feel like I was doing something to make things better. It had been a drive all my old life for as long as I could remember, sometimes to a pathological degree.
"Oh," I said, jabbing my finger at the ceiling, looking up past it. "Ohhhh! I see your fucking game, manyak! I fucking get it. Well, fine, I'll play along. I'll be me, with no thanks and no help from you!" I stalked over to where I had left a change of clothing. "But I'm gonna get my self a nice dinner and a stiff fucking drink, because Lord knows I need it!"
So I did.
- Notes from the Author
- I wasn't giggling, Gideon...
Anyway, I just realized that we passed into the triple digit territory for watchers with that last chapter. Hello, everyone, thank you for joining in spectating this madness. I'm pleased as punch to have you here.
As for this chapter. Yeah. Helm. This was always a choice in the back of my mind when I decided to write this story. I know it's the motherlode. So does Gideon. And yes, I know how it was found. I've read Price of Glory, though only pretty recently, and I've read enough Battletech fic to know where it was and how to get to it before that. But it's overplayed, I think. And this helps represent the perspective of a 3050s fan. We know it's important. Really important. But we might not know the details. So there will be no immediate or even short-term dive on Helm to grab the goodies. Gideon is going to have to do it the hard way if he does it at all.