Veni, Vidi, (Re)aedificavi "I Came, I saw, I (Re)built" (A Commissioned Battletech Isekei)

[MarkWarrior]

Chapter 30


"Let's talk about your future, Duncan Fisher," One of the owners of the crazy Militiamech company that was helping make the Mackie again said to the younger man. Duncan swallowed. He still wasn't sure how he'd ended up here. Sure, he'd worked for his cousin Justin a few years back. But despite doing decently as a Mechwarrior, he hadn't done well as part of a unit. It'd led to the near destruction of his grandfather's Shadow Hawk, and his taking it back to the family in disgrace until Justin had reached back out recently to offer him a job.

Of course, Duncan hadn't leapt at the opportunity. Family was great, but despite them having your back, it wasn't easy to forget what had almost happened to the family's 'mech. That Justin had reached out at all meant that he'd gotten a good contract and was planning to get bigger after some sort of success.

That had apparently changed in the weeks since Duncan had thrown his savings at a dropship headed for Kalidasa. Instead of hiring Duncan as a Mechwarrior, Justin had sat down with him in a bar outside of the spaceport and had an honest discussion.

"Look," Justin had begun over a bottle of some sort of local beer. "I'm still not happy that you walked away right when the company was at it's lowest point. Glad that you managed to get Gramps' mech out, sure. But not happy that you left us with less than a working lance. If we hadn't gotten lucky, the unit would've gone out of business. Regardless of my feelings about this, you're a decent Mechwarrior, and I know you've been saving up to go to Solaris and put your name in the ring. Well, I have an opportunity for you. My current employer is looking to put someone in Solaris to represent them. This is your shot to potentially make it big. From this point forward, any success or failure is on you. Nobody else. Try not to fuck it up."

Duncan shook his head free of the thoughts and decided to do what he'd always done when feeling out of his element. He was going to not only fake it, he was going to be loud and boisterous about it.

"Yessir, I'm glad to talk about my future. My cousin Justin has had a lot of great things to say about you. Now, I was planning on going to Solaris to compete in the medium 'mech circuit. I've been working with our grandfather's old Shadow Hawk since I was a teenager."

"If you decide to stick with us, we might be able to move you into the medium 'mech circuit eventually, but for now, our team is going to be putting you into the heavy 'mech circuits," the redheaded CEO had an intense look in his eyes as he leaned forward, it was as if the redhead could see into Duncan's soul. Worse, Duncan had no idea if Edmund Blaze liked what he saw…

"Now, I'm not going to be the one you report to," Edmund said, standing up from the desk while calling out to the pretty secretary he had. "Susannah, can you give Sylvie a call and let her know that I'm bringing over her new hire?"

"On it, boss," the now-named Susannah replied, picking up a phone, dialing a few numbers, and repeating those words to someone on the other end of the line. "I'll make sure no one tries to blow up our large laser line. Again."

"That happens?" Duncan asked, trying to keep the nervousness out of his voice.

"Once," the CEO casually led him into the elevator and hit the button that would return them to the surface. "But the once was enough for us to never want it to happen again."

"So, I haven't signed a contract yet," Duncan broached the subject once the doors had shut, leaving him alone with the CEO.

"And you won't until I get approval from Sylvie," Edmund replied with a shrug. "I'm not neurohelmet compatible, I can help design a 'mech, I can run a business, and I can do a whole lot of work to support others. But I have no idea what to look for in someone to represent us on Solaris. So, I'm going to leave that to Sylvie and Eddie. It'll ultimately be their decision that makes this work or not. My recommendation," the elevator stopped at the top floor. "Be honest with them. We're here to help you, and for you to in turn help us."

The doors opened up, and Edmund led Duncan to a car, and opened the door. "This car will take you to the yard where the 'mech, Sylvie, and Eddie are located. You impress them enough, and you'll have a job. If you don't, then Hammer said he'll still have you in the Hogs. See you around, Duncan, let's hope things go well for you."

With that, the door shut and Duncan shuddered. He knew that meeting people who owned companies was intense, but he hadn't been this tongue tied in years. He'd have to see if he could get some of that back. After all, a Solaris Mech Jockey had to have style, they couldn't be seen as some nobody. So, he ran his fingers through his hair one time to make sure that it was still in the right place and prepared to impress this "Sylvie" and "Eddie" characters.

---

Date: March 21, 3029


I guessed Duncan had impressed Sylvie and Eddie more than he had me. Because to me, he seemed just a little too nervous to be the sort of person who could be trusted to perform well under pressure. Maybe it had something to do with us being a new company, maybe he thought that he'd be meeting with someone other than myself or Sylvie, but he hadn't impressed me all that much.

Not that I knew a lot about what a Mechwarrior really needed. After all, I wasn't neurohelmet compatible and had to rely on manual driving when I moved any of our 'mechs out of the production and into the testing area.

Sylvie and Eddie had their strengths, and I had mine. My talents lay in administration, and with the strange ability in my head, with helping redesign 'mechs to be sold as militiamechs. I'd never been one for tournament sports in my past life, whether it be MMA, or football(American or European didn't matter), or anything that most people enjoyed.

So, I was going to leave it in the hands of those more suited to the arenas of Solaris. Sure, Sylvie still had a lot to learn about negotiations and how to handle things that might need to have something lubricate the wheels. But I was convinced that she would adapt perfectly fine.

Thankfully, things were progressing relatively smoothly with the Phoenix. We'd taken the lessons learned from the Mackie, and we were incorporating them. If projections were accurate (They usually weren't), then we'd have our first 'mech off the line in a few weeks to put through all of our usual rigorous testing and paces.

I didn't want to be another 'military-grade' company like I'd heard about back home. Where things were made to be the lowest possible quality. No, we were going to make gear that was second-string, for the rear-echelons, yes. But it was going to be the best.

Eventually, I did want to build proper Mackie and Phoenix battlemechs alongside the militiamechs. If things went well, I figured we'd be ready for that sort of move and expansion inside of a decade.

The real problem I was struggling with right now was the question of diversifying our industrial capacity. Small arms was technically a market we could easily enter into. It was even easier to make a profit via margins. I wasn't sure if we wanted to move into manufacturing gear for the individual soldier on top of making the 'mechs. But every time I looked at how hyperspecialized we were, the businessman inside of me started to shudder. Yes, we could specialize in being a defense contractor, but if one of our factories were damaged, or destroyed, or any number of things, we'd want to have something to rely on that could keep us afloat even in times that were lean.

Despite my misgivings, I had ended up running the math for starting small arms, body armor, and everything a soldier might need barring foodstuffs over the last few days while we were waiting on the last of the Phoenix lines to complete their checks.

No, it wouldn't make nearly as much money as any of our 'mech lines did. But it'd be much easier to acquire tooling, and it scaled extremely well from planetary to interstellar. And, if I could swing an SRM factory into the small-arms then we would have a steady source of income as people purchased missiles from us.

It was odd, and I didn't quite understand how they made it work on an interstellar level, but according to everything I could find, and everyone I asked, the missiles themselves were a universal thing across the galaxy. Yes, there were specialty munitions that had vanished over the centuries of war, but everything else had standardized long ago.

Which meant that anyone who had a factory that produced missiles, whether long-range or short-range had a money printer. Was it a fast money printer? No, but it was a constant stream of cash that wouldn't die down.

If I were going to do this, I wanted to get Rebecca involved. After all, she loved small arms. She might enjoy being able to pilot 'mechs, but she lived to be able to use the arsenal she'd built up over the years. If I could get her input and her investment into what was worthwhile, we could expand our portfolio into something that we could also apparently market to civilians.

Which was both cool and unsettling in equal parts to someone like me who'd never done more than go to the range with family when growing up. Nowadays, I somewhat understood why my grandfather'd always wanted me to go hunting with him and to learn all of this stuff.

The world was a dangerous place. Being prepared for anything that might happen while we lived in it made a lot more sense to me now than it ever had back home.

Back on Earth, even with natural disasters like hurricanes and earthquakes, it felt like there was a chance to come together and for the government to eventually step in and help. It didn't feel like that here. If a disaster happened and your planet needed help, you were on your own. Even worlds that were more valuable weren't immune to losing out. I'd done my research, Kalidasa had gotten off lightly, there were worlds that had been industrial powerhouses. They'd been decimated, written off, and forgotten about. Even if it hadn't happened lately, that didn't mean that it wasn't possible for it to happen again in the future.

Things had been going well for us so far. Now I was just going to wait for the other shoe to drop and for things to fall apart around me. The 4th Succession War had started last year. We were one jump away from the Lyran Commonwealth border. It would only take one disaster for us to lose everything and for me to be back to square one. Again…

 

[MarkWarrior]

Chapter 31

Date: April 14, 3029


"Look, if you really want to break into this market, then you've got to do something different from everyone else," Rebecca said as she looked at the finantial documents I'd given her, the edge of a pencil touching her lips. "A lot of places make small arms, it's fairly easy to get into that industry. What you want to do is market to more than mere infantry and rear echelon troops. You're going to want to do a whole ecosystem."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Well," She leaned back in her chair and rubbed some sleepiness out of her eyes. "While the military market and the military surplus market is glutted with stuff, what not a lot of people are doing right now is building equipment exclusively for civilians, or for worlds that don't have a well-funded militia. Something for rural areas that helps fill a lot of needs. So, here's my thoughts. The small-arms are just a part of an ecosystem you're going to sell to folks," She pulled out a blank piece of notebook paper and began writing on it. "A lot of local places can afford a bunch of little purchases or one big one. You're going to do both. A container with a fusion-powered well, small machine shop, and the storage for everything a small town needs to arm itself. They're paying for all of this, and as a result, they can now repair and maintain everything that they're purchasing from you. If you also sell the uniforms, can source an MRE manufacturer to partner with you, and basic body armor, you'll essentially have a ready made kit for small towns to buy and arm themselves against pirates or anything else that comes their way."

"Alright," I frowned. "Why would I spread things out that far and fast?" I tapped the piece of paper she'd begun writing on. "That's a lot of markets to get into all at once, and a lot more startup capital than I'd originally planned."

"Well, it kills a couple of birds with one stone," Rebecca replied chewing on the end of the pencil again. "For one thing, now you're not reliant on the firearms production and sales going well right out of the gate. You've got security because you'll be in textiles, you'll be in wells, generators, etc. The other part of this, is that I'm going to be buying in on this. I'm a part of the target market for this sort of gear," She gestured to her house that we were currently in, and I nodded in response. "There are a lot of moderately wealthy people, or simply groups of people or towns that would love to purchase everything at one place. Instead, they have to workshop everything around. Durable and effective clothing in one area, weapons in another, etc. We're going to do all of it. Hell, I'll even get in touch with the local farms to source the raw materials for the textiles. Wool will be a bit harder to source than cotton, but as long as we have some access to both of those as well as some of the more modern blends of materials, we can make things work."

"I always thought the wool was a marketing thing," I raised an eyebrow.

"No," She shook her head. "This isn't the history books where wool is scratchy, itchy, and heavy. If you process the wool properly, it makes for an incredibly effective all-weather underlayer. It'll keep you cool in the summer, warm in the winter, it's moisture wicking, and it doesn't hold onto odors as much as modern polyester blends. Cotton works well for an outer layer, especially in climates like we have here in Kalidasa. Some things are going to have to be made out of other fibers though, and I'll have to see who can provide the fabrics to use there. Then, after you get done with the clothing, you have to figure out what small arms you want to manufacture and sell. I recommend,"

A few sentences later, and I'd gotten lost in what my fiance was talking about. I'd apparently hit on one of her favorite topics, and she'd done enough deep dives into it that she knew way more than I did about the entire subject. Assuming she knew what she was talking about, then my ideas might have a bit more purchase than I'd originally assumed.

Now I just had to figure out what part of this I was going to start with to build the second business…

---

For all that Rebecca enjoyed being an accountant, she'd never really felt like she was doing something that would make a difference for people. Maybe because she'd basically just been helping people do taxes, and avoid having to give the Feds any more money than was strictly necessary.

But now, she felt like she was in her element. She'd gone over her funds, she'd gone over Edmund's, and now she was going through the gear she already owned.

"No, I'm telling you, Jackson," She said, the phone laying on the rug next to her as she sat on the floor. "I'm finally getting into the gear market like I've been talking about."

"Becs," her cousin sighed while Rebecca began going through stacks of old gear, trying to figure out what was worth looking into copying or modifying, and what was junk that shouldn't even be looked at. "You've been saying that since you got out of the militia."

"And now I have the money, the know-how, and a lover who's already connected into the industry," Rebecca replied. "So, are you going to do what I asked, or do I have to reach out to someone that's not family?"

"I'll work on getting the materials you need," Jackson replied. "But I ain't gonna do more than get you into contact with folks. I won't have you offering them an unfair price for their goods."

"Jackson, when have I ever acted like that?" Rebecca asked, a touch offended at what her cousin had just insinuated.

"Well, we haven't spoken in years," Rebecca could hear Jackson's shrug. "I dunno how you've changed since you started making all tha money."

"Power and money don't change people, Jackson," Rebecca shook her head as she picked out the rucksack she'd like for them to use as a base for manufacturing. "They just amplify what's already there. I'll reach back out in a few weeks after I've gotten the factory and logistical parts of this sorted out. You just make sure the farmers are good to go."

"Yeah, cuz, I hear ya," Jackson chuckled. "I'll have a contract written up with some folks down here in a bit. You take care, try not to get that fiance of yours kilt over your obsession."

"It's not obsession or paranoia," Rebecca growled. "This is the Inner Sphere, if you're not prepared for what it might throw at you, then you're going to end up dead in a ditch or a slave to pirates. I won't be either."

With that, she set the phone back on the cradle and stood up, stretching for a moment as she tried to find her nice rug underneath all of the equipment.

"The straps on this bag are good, but the rest of the design is trash," She grabbed the one survival knife that she'd already decided on and cut the straps off. "We'll have to work on the design a bit to get it to work with everything."

Taking her stack of rucksacks, backpacks, and other gear that she used for hiking, rucking, and carrying shit around the mountains, she tossed it into the corner of the room. She'd tried just about everything over the last few years. She'd beaten the gear up, used it, and over the years had found out what was durable and comfortable enough for use both in the field as well as what was complete and utter bullshit that had been sold.

The same went for various small arms. A lot of bullpups had crap triggers and awful quality control, as did a bunch of recoiless rifles and SRM launchers. Which was insane given that the SRM launchers should have been as simple as a tube with a basic sights setup.

But when she was in the militia, Rebecca had learned otherwise. There were far too many companies that believed on cheaping out materials. Sure, it didn't happen often, but every now and then a launcher was missed in the militia's armorer inspections.

But the guns were the last thing she was going to be working on. For now, it was the rest of the gear she was focused on. Edmund was good at weapons and was extremely strict about quality control, all she had to do was make sure that he knew what products were actually worth producing and they'd be in business.

---

Date: July 17, 3029
Location: Location: Concord, Free Worlds League

Austin really wasn't sure how to feel about the pair of MilitiaMechs that had been purchased by his superiors in the Concord Militia. Admittedly, at the price tag they carried, he certainly hoped they were more than pieces of junk.

Admittedly, the Mackie was instantly recognizable. The massive 100-ton behemoth was one of the things that had stayed a part of the myth and legends of battlemechs over nearly a millennia. Even if this one was only part of the firepower the original could bring to bear, then it was going to be a beast on the battlefield.

It was the lighter 'mech that concerned him. He had never heard of a Phoenix before being assigned to pilot this one. That wasn't to say it was a bad 'mech, but he didn't quite know what to make of it or its armaments.

A large laser was almost always a welcome piece of kit. But he had no idea what to make of the pair of medium Blazers that were seated in the shoulders of the medium. According to the documents he'd been given, they could hit almost as hard as a large laser. But they didn't share the range of one, and they generated a ton of heat. Sure, the damage output would be nice to have when up against someone bigger than him, but he might try to pull the pair for a trio of mediums if he didn't like the blazers in the end.

Still, a 'mech was a 'mech, and he now had the ability to pilot one after losing the family Locust a half-decade ago. So, he climbed in and sat down, taking in the factory-fresh smell of a new 'mech.

"Damn," Austin whistled, the seat was a comfortable padded and cooled synthetic leather he'd only heard about coming from Defiance Industries. The displays were immaculate, and there was still a plastic film covering all of them.

Austin ignored the plastic covers, and began pulling his cooling vest and neurohelmet on, he could peel them off after he was done with his initial tests. Making sure the leads were properly connected and the tubes run down into the fusion engine, the Militia noncom initialized the reactor.

"Reactor, online, sensors online, myomers online…" the voice of the 'Betty' this company had chose went over the factory fresh startup sequence. Usually, most Mechwarriors set it to only do the reactor, sensors, and weapons after they got a feel for how the 'mech initialized itself. But the first few times, they would let it go through all of them. "Weapons online. All systems nominal."

With everything online, Austin turned on the fire control systems and linked his 'mechs battlecomputer into the local 'net'.

"Heya Sarge!" the cheerful voice of Romeo, the current person manning the communications relay greeted him. "Taking the new ride out for a spin?"

"Aye," Austin grunted, the kid had entirely too much energy. "I'm transmitting my course now, I'm going to hit up the canyon and put her through her paces. If Reagan decides to do the same with the Mackie, let me know. I'll run through some familiarization drills with her."

"Copy that, Sarge," Romeo replied. "I think she said something about finishing her paperwork and then hopping in the 'mech. So, you should see her soon."

"Understood, Stone Cold, out."

Reagan was a young officer, and Austin was glad she'd been given the heavier 'mech. She was an idealist, and it was going to take everything he had to keep the youngsters alive if and when the Lyrans decided to make another attempt across the border…

 

[MarkWarrior]

Chapter 32

Date: June 12, 3029
Location: Kalidasa, Free Worlds League

Things had changed a lot form Hammer's Superior Hogs. They now had a steady contract, they had a full staff and enough equipment to fill out a square company, and they weren't stuck waiting for the end to come for them.

Sure, they hadn't gotten to use any of the Lostech that Justin's cousin Duncan was getting to enjoy on Solaris, but Justin was certain that his group would be among the first to get to test that sort of equipment once it had reentered production.

For now, he was content to use the militiamechs and tanks that they'd been given as payment. Sure, a Mackie built with industrialmech parts wasn't near as good in a scrap as a full-on battlemech, but it was hard to ignore something with sixteen tons of armor and an ack-twenty. Sure, it didn't have the PPC or the medium lasers of the original, but he was sure that eventually that would be fixed once Siler's managed to convert everything into a true battlemech.

"Hey boss," Lieutenant Castle stepped into the office, sweat dripping down her face from the desert heat. "They finally finished the walls for the outer complex."

"Really?" Justin leaned forward, his eyes finding the map of the industrial compound they were in charge of keeping safe and secure. "They get the turrets up and running yet?"

"Just a pair of Calliopes so far," Castle replied, reaching into the unit's fridge and pulling out a pair of ice-cold beers before tossing one over to Justin. "Blaze says they'll have two more to round out the finished side along with some laser and missile turrets to cover the walls themselves."

"I'm glad the turrets are there," Hammer pupped the top of the beer off and took a sip. "They might not be perfect, but they're a lot better than not having anything at all to help weather anything we might face."

"I just can't see anyone trying to take out these factories," Castle shrugged. "I understand that they're required to have security by both the feds and the planetary government. But MilitiaMechs aren't exactly the sort of thing that raiders or pirates seek out to just blow up."

"All industry can be repurposed," Justin replied. "If it can make clothes, it can turn around and make a uniform, if it can make a car, it can make a tank. Industry is always going to be a target, lieutenant. Whether it's for destruction or for capture is for the enemy to decide," Justin sat back down and pointed to the map on his desk. "Now, where did they put the turrets, and how can we incorporate their locations and sensors into our patrol routes?"

"The two Calliope's are set up on that little hill to the north," Castle pointed to the two spots. "They said the lasers were going to be directly mounted to the wall. Blaze turrets are going to be set up along critical points with lanes of overlapping fire. Here, here, here, and here for now, with others filling in other slots as more turrets are built out."

"We'll keep the current patrols until all of the turrets are online," Justin said, tapping the areas where they usually patrolled. "Then we'll create a new schedule and stick with it. I'd hate for our employers to think we're slacking off once the turrets are in place."

"Sounds good, boss," Castle propped her feet up on the coffee table. "Now, I believe it's your turn to take a shift."

"Yeah yeah," Justin shook his head and downed the rest of his beer. "I'm movin'."

Heading out into the oppressive heat, Justin noted that Castle's Mackie was parked in the shade, and that his Griffin which had been in the shade wasn't anymore.

Shaking his head and chuckling to himself, the leader of Hammer's Superior Hogs climbed into this 'mech and began to go through the startup procedures. After entering his final passcode, he relaxed as the line of coolant began to flood the interior of the 'mech, bringing it to a much more comfortable temperature than the desert outside his doors.

"Hey hey, look who decided to join us!" Adam called from this LRM carrier. "You get tired of sitting in the office and lording your position over us?"

"Yeah," Justin replied with a laugh as he stepped out and moved to join the patrol routes. "I figured I'd see how you peasants were living out here in the dust and filth."

"I'll have you know that Hogs love filth," Scott's team over in the heavily modified Scorpion taunted. "It's why we're superior!"
"Fair enough," Justin said, letting the jokes die down. "Castle gave me the update. You two take your teams and rotate out. I'll take over with Bravo Lance."

"Copy that, boss," Adam replied. "I'll let Stephens know to swap out."

With that settled, Justin Hammer began to do his route around the Siler's Salvage and Manufacturing compound. Just because there weren't any threats right now didn't mean there weren't any out there at all.

---

Date: June 17, 3029
Location: Solaris VII, Lyran Commonwealth

Sylvie had been excited to head to Solaris with Eddie and Duncan at first. Her childhood memories had made everything seem brighter and better than the reality actually was.

"This place is a fucking dump," Sylvie swore, grimacing at the workshop, garage, and stable they'd bought out. "You think it was always like this? Or did they trash it after we bought it from them?"

The inside of the mech bay had been filled with garbage, the craps of three battlemechs (Which they'd be cataloguing for potential use later), and the smell of something dead.

"I can agree with that," Duncan said, his voice muffled by the mask that everyone was wearing to prevent them from having to smell more than they had to.

"It contains the basics of what will be required to begin our journey," Eddie said, his wife and kids were now paid employees and were going to be helping get the place up and running. "First, we should begin with a thorough sterilization of the facilities, then we can proceed with tallying up the equipment."

"How'dya plan on sterilizing this place?" Duncan asked, his eyes locked on what looked like a piece of mold that was actually moving closer to him.

"With the best solution of all," Jasmine, Eddie's wife spoke up, causing Sylive and Duncan to look behind them and shy away. "The only way to purge this kind of awfulness is with fire."
Eddie had lit the pilot light to the flamethrower that his wife had brought and moved to the side, allowing her to move forward.

"Where the hell were you hiding that?!" Duncan asked, stepping far away from the flamethrower.

"In the back of the truck?" One of the teenagers rolled her eyes at the Mechwarrior. "Duh."

"Anyway, we've got a lot of work to do," Sylvie simply shrugged and pulled on gloves. "The fire won't be able to get everything. So, Duncan and I'll work on the offices."

Duncan shuddered at the thought of going up into the offices, but followed the other owner of Siler's Salvage, anyway. They'd spent an awful lot of money to get things ready for him to compete here on Solaris. He owed them at least that much while he made a name for himself.

While the two climed the stairs, the a 'Whoosh' and the sound of kid's cheering reached his ears. It was obvious that Jasmine had started burning everything that could be set ablaze down there.

Thankfully, the offices were less of a biohazardous area. Instead of mold, mildew, and other things, it was mostly trash. Although, Sylvie noted with a frown as she saw a few cockroaches and rats scurry around. They'd have to call some sort of pest control services. If you saw one cockroach or rat, there were a lot more out there.

"Grab a garbage back and start stuffing it," Sylvie tossed a spare box of said bags to the mechwarrior they'd hired. "We've got some work to do."

–
–

It took the better part of a week for them to 'sterilize' the stable. Judicious applications of the flamethrower had dealt with most of the disgusting sections of the mechbay, even if they did have to pressure wash scorch marks off the walls and floors when they were done.

The Offices had been emptied of trash, furniture, and everything except for the lights. A pest control company had come out and spent two days dealing with the rats, bugs, and anything else that had made its home in the stable.

"Well, what's the word on the parts left behind?" Sylvie asked, admiring the gleaming and clean surfaces of the gantries and the freshly painted walls. They'd parked both the Shadow Hawk that Duncan had brought as well as the modified Rifleman Eddie and Sylvie and built in the proper bays. This made the place seem alive again, even if the half-destroyed hulk of a pair of Wasps and the lone, battlescarred Archer in the corner made it seem worn in.

"Archer should be fixable," Eddie replied, a clipboard in hand. "But it'll take time and parts we don't have currently. I'll submit an order back to Kali to get some parts that might make a difference. The Wasps are scrap outside of the engines. I say we sell them to someone else."

"Sounds good to me," Sylvie nodded. "I'll put them on the market after I make contact with a broker," She clapped her hands together and then turned to the truck that held the furniture for the pair of apartments and the offices that were upstairs. "Now, let's make this a place worth living in."

The paint upstairs was barely dry, but none of them cared. Even though Sylvie, Eddie, and Duncan had doubts about this entire venture, there was still an excitement that was in the air and charging the atmosphere.

Said atmosphere and excitement was broke when they heard a crash and realized that one of Eddie's teenagers had left the eight year old unsupervised.

"Alvin Lee Eastbrook, you get down here, now!" Jasmine's yell jolted the three adults and they turned to see the eight-year-old atop the Archer. He'd casually climbed the old 'mech and was trying to break into the cockpit.

"But Mom," Alvin whined. "No one's tried to see the inside of this one yet!"

"I don't care," Jasmine glared. "Down, now." She pointed her finger towards the ground and eventually the young boy was down on the mech bay's floor, pouting with his arms crossed while his two olders sisters stared smugly at their younger brother.

"Don't think you two aren't in trouble," Eddie said from behind his daughters. "You two are teenagers, and are responsible for your brother's actions. You were both told to keep an eye on him while the adults figured out which apartments went to which people. So, I think it's fair that all three of you share the same punishment. Alvin, if you like that 'mech so much, then you and the girls can clean every centimeter of it by hand. When you're not doing school with mom, you'll be working on the 'mech. And if I find so much as a spec of dust on it at the end of the week, you'll start all over again."

"Thank you," Jasmine mouthed over the kid's shoulders at her husband with a certain look on her face and a wink of her eye, leading Eddie to simply nod.

"We should finish unloading the furniture," the engineer loosened his shirt collar a bit. "Starting with the bedrooms…"

 

[MarkWarrior]

Chapter 33

Date: July 17, 3029
Location: Solaris VII, Lyran Commonwealth

Just because it was the off-season for Solaris VII, didn't mean that there weren't regularly held matches. In fact, it was common for new contestants to work their way up in the smaller leagues before entering a mainline championship.

Which is why Duncan was powered down in the custom Rifleman that Siler's Salvage and Assembly had built for him. The only thing receiving power as his radio, and the man facepalmed as he listened to the announcer.

"Welcome to the Mud Pit," The man was committing the cardinal sin of announcing, and it made Duncan want to march up into the booth and rip the mic out of the announcer's hands. "I'm Francis Warner, and this is the off season games. Smaller prizes, less people, but no less destructive," The announcer had finally gained some momentum, but it wasn't really enough. "Today's match is a heavy'mech brawl–"

Duncan shut off the radio and closed his eyes for a second, taking some deep breaths in an attempt to slow down his heart rate. Thankfully, he opened his eyes just in time to see the red glow of the flare and quickly power up his 'mech.

The Rifleman quickly came online, and Duncan's sensors quickly began to make sense of the situation. Instead of the promised 'six-mech brawl', there was five. Each of them starting out in different sections of the walled arena.

Duncan had expected to be among the first 'mechs targeted. The stock Rifleman wasn't exactly known for durability, and there were plenty of 'mechs around that could probably have eliminated a stock one with little difficulty.

Instead, the mechwarrior had been ignored, giving him the opportunity to analyze the situation and decide where to move from here. Duncan had gotten lucky. He'd been set up in the northwest corner of the arena. The other four had been grouped up closer together, and were tearing each other apart in a grizzly free for all that would have made the usual Solaris Championship matches look tame.

Glancing out of his cockpit and down into the mud pit itself, Duncan swallowed. There were stories about people getting kicked down there and never coming back. Sure, most of them were probably just tall tales. But it was'nt the sort of thing anyone wanted to test.

There were four other heavy 'mechs in this fight. A Thunderbolt, a Warhammer, an Archer, and a rare Champion. And, seeing as the Thud wasn't paying attention, Duncan swallowed his nerves back down, set the reticles of his PPCs and LRMs onto said 65-tonner, and squeezed the triggers. Hoping that the double heat sinks worked because if not, it was going to get really hot in his 'mech.

Thankfully, they did work, and there was a small heat spike that quickly dipped back down into ice-cold territory.

"Damn," Duncan whistled as he missed his shots. Everyone else didn't seem to miss though, as two of the other four 'mechs decided to pick on the 'Hammer. The Steiner blue 'mech shuddered under the combined fire and hit the ground with a thump that shook the arena a bit.

Then a second thump drew Duncan's attention, and he saw that the Archer and Champion were close enough that they'd been engaged in melee combat. The Archer should have had the upper hand, but instead, the missile boat was lying on its back, staring up at the Champion.

That was fine with Duncan, the longer they ignored him, the more of a chance he had to survive and actually win this thing. So, he continued his walking pace, slowly moving closer to the thickest fighting.

Recentering his aim, Duncan tried to hit the distracted Thunderbolt one more time. Focusing all four of his long-range weapons and squeezing the trigger. A jolt of energy ran through him as he saw one of his PPCs strike the 65-tonner's leg. Sure, it wasn't much, but a hit was a hit, and it felt good.

As long as they were shooting at someone else, they weren't shooting at him, and that was worth– "Warning, incoming missile!" Betty barked, the tone inside of Duncan's cockpit signalling that someone had a missile lock on him. The Rifleman shuddered as missiles scatted across his arms. The gyro began to compensate for the sudden impacts, and Duncan continued on.

Thankfully, the Archer seemed to have lost the missile lock, because the next group of missiles passed harmlessly overhead, leaving Duncan to take the opportunity presented in an opening on the Champion. Dropping a 5-rack out of his firing loop, Duncan tagged said Champion with a PPC and the other LRM-5 rack.

Meanwhile, the Warhammer pilot stumbled to his feet, only for him to get hammered by the Thunderbolt and driven back to the ground with an armored first. If nothing else happened today, that fight was the sort of brawl that got clipped and played on highlight reels showcasing just why people loved Solaris matches.

With said Warhammer fallen to the ground once again, two of the other three'mechs focused on removing it from the fight, leaving Duncan to strike at the Thunderbolt that had, so far ignored him.

"Ooh," The announcer's voice cut through Duncan's focus. "That Champion pilot's a bit bloodthirsty. Did you see that cockpit strike? He's been aiming for that headshot all day."

Duncan must have missed that in his focus on attempting to hit the Thud. But the Archer still looked to be in the fight for now, so he shook his head and wiped some sweat off his face. He'd slowly made his way into the 'goldilocks' zone. Where his PPCs and SRMs intersected into a perfect range match. One of his PPCs went wide, but the second bit deep into the leg he'd already hit once before, leaving only a sliver of armor on the 65-tonner. Then six of his eight missiles pockmarked the Thud's armor, rocking it back.

The Warhammer pilot then ejected. Choosing to save his 'mech while there was still something left of it to salvage. He'd been ganged up on, and Duncan spared a brief moment for pity before continuing his fight against the Thunderbolt.

Dropping his PPCs out of his firing loop, Duncan linked his medium lasers and the four-racks together. A grin spread across his face, as for once today, all of his shots hit. The lasers melted armor and caused it to melt off in rivulets, the missiles scattering across in the hopes of carving into weakpoints and detonating.

"Well, he's not coming back from that one!" The announcer interrupted Duncan's calm again. "An autocannon to the cockpit isn't very conducive for survival. There's always one Mechwarrior who doesn't know how to keep their hands on a leash in the arena. It seems today we've found him."

A part of Duncan wanted to turn and face the Champion pilot. The other part of him knew that he needed to finish the fight in front of him. So, as soon as his lasers and missiles cycled, he fired again and stepped into melee range, swallowing down the fear and panic he felt as he kicked the other heavy.

They exchanged fire again, the Thud taking the worst of the exchange as the Champion turned his attention to the last remaining opponents on the field. Said Champion's shots missed entirely, and Duncan continued to focus on his immediate opponent while leaving his back to the Arena wall instead of to the Champion.

Duncan got lucky again. Using the Thunderbolt's kick to push himself back, he spotted an opening in the right side of the 'mech and poured lasers and missiles into it, reaping a reward as the ammo began to detonate, leaving the Mechwarrior to rise out of the arena on his ejection seat.

And then there was one more. The Champion's Ack-ten shattered chunks of armor off of Duncan's leg, and Duncan retaliated with a PPC and his quartet of medium lasers. Two of said lasers went wide, but the other hit where he intended.

Duncan's PPC hit the other heavy's leg and broke it off at the knee, sending the slightly lighter 'mech down to the ground near the beginning of the mud pit's descent.

That forced Duncan closer, as his weapons would just be carving into the dirt and mud in front of the Champion, so he moved closer, and winced as the ack-ten, lasers, and missile rack began to strip away what armor was left on Duncan's center torso.

Duncan's return fire carved a hole into the Champion and a heat signature showed the reactor breach before it shut down and the other Mechwarrior ejected. Leaving Duncan the winner of the Mud pit.

Swallowing, Duncan released his death grips on the sticks in front of him and finally listened to everything around him. The Mud Pit was never a big arena, but hearing several people chanting your name was the sort of hearty feeling that he'd never experienced before.

He would have to get used to this…


Six hours later…

"That was a good match," Sylvie leaned against the scarred Rifleman that had been moved back into their stable's garage. "Now, you probably weren't the crowd favorite. That physical match between the 'Hammer and the Thud was a lot more fun to watch. But you won. That's the important part."

"I'm just glad that we only have armor damage to replace," Duncan said sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. "Honestly, I was ready to back out at any time. That was terrifying. Especially after that Champion decided he was willing to kill someone over the match. That, and I didn't want to lose the 'mech."

"The mech's going to get wrecked," Eddie said from where he was already beginning to remove damaged armor plates. "That means it's doing its job. You're here to represent us. Winning is excellent. Showcasing durability and product is best."

"Look," Sylvie interjected. "We have our first win under our belt, and the Warhammer pilot reached out after the match. Her stable dropped her after her loss there, and she's looking to jump ship. She doesn't get to keep the 'mech, but we've got one here we can repurpose for her."

"Archer's a good base platform," Eddie said from his position. "Will be excellent for additional pilot."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Sylvie shook her head. "I've got people running a background check first. I don't want some psycho working for us out here and ruining my grandfather's good name. So, let's just get our 'mech fixed up and prep for the next off-season fight."

"Mech will be ready by the end of the day," Eddie said.

"Speaking of off-season fights," Duncan swallowed. "What's the plan regarding the main season?"

"Same thing everyone else does," Sylvie shrugged. "We build a name and reputation for you, and then we enter you into the leagues. There's a lot to be done in the off season if you want to stand a chance in the big leagues. Just having some Lostech won't cut it."

"I definitely understand that after today," Duncan shuddered. "Speaking of fights, what's the next arena?"

"One where the sinks are really going to come in handy," Eddie spoke up. "It's hot."

"You got me in the jungle or desert arenas?" Duncan asked.

"Not so much," Sylvie shook her head with a mischievous grin. "Tell me Fisher, how do you feel about the Volcanic Scrapyard?"

 

[MarkWarrior]

Chapter 34

Date: September 12, 3029
Location: Kalidasa, Free Worlds League

Back home, I hadn't really ever been into guns or the outdoors. Sure, it's fairly stereotypical for tech startups to lock themselves inside until they've solved their most recent problems. In my case, it'd been true. For one thing, redheads and the outdoors didn't always mix well. I was particularly susceptible to the sun, and as a kid I'd learned taht even judicious applications of susncreen and covering my body didn't always work.

Here in this strange world in which I'd found myself a budding entrant into the military industrial complex, that had changed. I now had a fiance who wouldn't let me slack off in anything. When we'd first started discussing FireFlight industries, one of her primary statements had been that we couldn't sell a product that we wouldn't use ourselves.

Which is why I'd found myself at a privately owned shooting range in the middle of the desrrt, the sun beating down on my pale skin., and a pair of massive trucks loaded up with every type of weapon that we could or might produce for the new company.

Thankfully, the combat uniforms/clothing that Rebecca had pushed us towards was lightweight, kept the sun from killing me, and actually left me feeling like I wasn't going to die out here after a few hours.

Yes, getting to shoot machine guns, assault rifles, and everything was 'cool' at first, but the novelty quickly wore off after the fifth or sixth iteration of a slightly different operating system I shot.

My shoulder ached from the heavy caliber of the squad machine guns, and I was drenched in sweat despite the nice uniforms. The only thing that kept me here was just how hot Rebecca looked right now. And not in the 'it's the desert' heat kind of hot. But the uniform she was wearing hugged her just right and made it all worthwhile. Especially when I knew that after we were done with the shooting that we'd be spending the rest of the week camping to test the other kit she wanted to sell.

There was a part of me that whispered. "She's already tested this gear, she didn't need to drag us out here to die in the desert." I silenced that part of me. Even if she had tested everything, this view was absolutely worth it. Especially when she finished a pattern of fire and stood up, resting a weapon on her shoulder before looking back at me with an inquisitive look.

I'd never thought I'd find something like this attractive before. Hell, I'd avoided romance and anything to do with it like the plague for years. Now, I was discovering that I most definitely had a type, and I was looking right at her.

"What?" She asked, arching an eyebrow over the Aviators she wore.

"Nothing," I shook my head, finishing the water before standing up and heading back over to her. "Just wondering how many more of these do we have to test?"

"Well, part of the reason I brought you out here was to see how intuitive some of the weapons are. Not everyone we sell to is going to be experts at this kind of thing," She said, handing me the next weapon and expecting me to figure it out. "Once we're done with this, we'll get all of the weapons for each class, and I'll have you pick out the ones that were easier to figure out the proper handling procedures. Whatever's easiest for you to figure out will probably be the same for everyone else. Then, I'll do some reliability testing outside of this, run it through the mud, sand, dirt, heat, cold, and anything else it might need to stand up to and we'll select hte weapons that are both easy to use and last the longest for manufacture."

"You couldn't have explained that earlier?" I asked.

"I thought I had," Rebecca replied, cocking her head to the side before facepalming. "No, nevermind, I didn't explain it. I thought I'd explained it after I went over the safety rules. But I just handed you an SRM launcher and told you to shoot that hill."

She pointed across the desert a few kilometers away where the missile had detonated.

"Yeah, that was freakin' awesome," I admitted. No matter how divorced I had been from media, firearms, etc. I didn't think there was a man alive who didn't appreciate an explosion. Especially one that he had set off himself.

"So, yeah," Rebecca said sheepishly. "I'm running tests using you as the primary testor to see what works best for people new to this kind of thing."

"I mean, it makes sense," I shrugged. "So, how many more do we have to go through."

She coughed and said something that I thought sounded like thirteen.

"Thirteeen isn't bad," I said to the brunette.

"Sorry, we have thirty," She chuckled at the miscommunication. "But after that, we get to spend a night together out under the stars. It'll be fun!" She winked.

I shook my head and did what every boyfriend, infantryman, and military member has done for thousands of years. I grumbled and did what I was told.



Date: September 29, 3029

Construction costs, fees, and delays were one of the things that no one really talked about when it came to startups back on Earth. Starting a store, storefront, or restaurant was actually fairly easy. Usually, there was already a building someone had built that you could lease out to get started. Or, as had been the case with my old tech startup, we'd bought an older office building and done some minor remodels.

Here though, I couldn't settle for a leased building, or an older factory building nearby. For one thing, even the factories around here weren't big enough to fully handle battlemech production unless I managed to buy one of Kali Yama's facilities outright. And I didn't know a singlep person that would be able to afford the kind of buyout that would require.

That, and there were certain security and safety measures that had to be baked into every facility that was geared towards 'mech production beyond industrialmechs. It was the kind of thing that made every new building on the property more expensive, take longer to build, and a nightmare to handle when it came to inspections.

So, a regular factory complex might take two years to build. A MilitiaMech factory could go at about the same pace given there were slightly less security measures to follow. A Battlemech factory? That was the sort of thing that was a three to five year project.

At first, I'd thought that the Mercury facility would take the same amount of time that our Mackie and Phoenix facilities took to build. I was wrong, very wrong. In fact, when I saw Andrew Shepherd lay out the timeline I had frowned. I hadn't given anyone my preliminary estimates for what I expected out of the factory within the next two years, and I was exceedingly grateful for that now. Because I'd have to move everything in my timeline back. I'd been planning to release pre-orders for the Mercury within six months of the factory opening for business.

With a heavy sigh, I rested my head on my desk. Deeply appreciating the cool metal compared to the heat of the factory surrounding me. I'd grown used to how fast things had been moving and had forgotten that things were going to take time.

There wasn't anything I could do to speed up the construction. In fact, any intervention I made would probably end up with delays or worse. Yes, I knew that the big boys on Kalidasa probably had deals worked out with the inspectors to get them to look past a few violations here or there. Because doing everything by the book was expensive. But I also knew that in this case, the rules and required measures existed for a good reason.

A part of the rules and measures were probably things that the big corporations had pushed for in order to help prevent startups from coming and taking market share. Not that it was really a problem in the current climate. With the Free Worlds League Federal Military and militia purchasing everything they could get their hands on, there was plenty of money to go around.

The big problem I was faced with, was that I didn't know how long this 'boom' would last. It could endure for years, or it could come crashing down arounds us. If I threw everything into expanding and it didn't pay off, then we'd be facing some pretty severe consequences.

So, I knuckled down, put a fresh pot of coffee on, and began crunching numbers. Assuming that things slowed down significantly, we would still be operating at a profit. If a small one. After all, our biggest market was the militia, and after a war of this scale, they'd need to replenish losses and do whatever else a military might need. So, now I needed to figure out something that could give us a leg up on the competition. Something that set us apart aside from militiamechs and durable products.

Eventually, it struck me that I'd been ignoring something that I could and should have been planning on selling for years. I had built a rought version of Windows 98 on our current system, and people had loved how intuitive it was. Now I just needed to have it able to be put on a separate installation section along with a basic suite of software and it could net us a lot of money,

There was just one problem though. I hated the subscription model. I didn't want to have to force people to keep paying for something when a product was already doing well enough to suit their needs.That said, I did understand the merits of charging a fee to maintain software that cost money to continue development and pushing into.

I'd have to find some sort of middle ground. Where people who just wanted the basics got what they needed with no frills, but people who wanted support for longer could get it if they were willing to pay for it.

Some issues that I could already foresee was the need to train people, to have a possible IT call center of some kind, as well as a way for companies to get an 'enterprise' license of the software instead of a personal license.

I also needed to figure out a way to build hardware. Corporations would be the largest purchaser, but they wouldn't be willing to buy something if there wasn't already hardware attached to it. I laid my head down again. It looked like I was going to be dipping my fingers into three separate pots of potential gold. Mechs, information technology, and infantry gear.

"Susannah," I called out, and my assistant appeared. "You're the most experienced in the computer systems we have outside of myself, and I've got a few things I want to pick your brain about."

"What would I know that you don't already know?" She asked, taking the seat across from my desk.

"I built the system, and I know that it's a bit expensive. My question is about potentially building out systems like the one we have and selling it and the software to other companies as well as individuals if we can scale it down."

"Don't do it," Susannah shook her head at me, her eyes serious. "Selling your work for it to be broken and stolen by someone else isn't worth it."

"I'll copyright or patent it first," I replied.

"Doesn't matter,' She said. "You haven't really seen it yet, because we don't intrude on anyone's business yet. But you cannot give people who are going to be competing with us a single centimeter. They'll use it against us, drive us out of business, and they won't stop at the computers and software. They'll take everything they possibly can. Keep the software, the computers, everything in house. Selling it might make you a ton of money at first. But it'll end in disaster, trust me."

 

[MarkWarrior]

Chapter 35

Date: October 10, 3029
Location: Kalidasa, Free Worlds League

In the end, I'd done what people throughout history have done. I postponed my decision on what to do regarding my operating system and software package to later. While a part of me felt like I was procrastinating when there was a business opportunity that would be able to launch us into the big leagues, the other part of me was wary now that I'd been reminded of just how cutthroat things were here.

Yes, I knew that to everyone else, I probably seemed naive, and unwilling to learn, but despite the last four, almost five years of my life having been spent here, I'd spent far longer being an entrepreneur back on Earth. Sure, there'd been competition back then, but most of the time, I'd met with, and was actually on good terms with the people that competed with me in the local arenas back home.

So, I'd gotten in touch with the local SAFE branch, and was sitting in the room waiting for a meeting with them now. As a business that had been granted federal grants and loans, we did have a local liaison. This was just the first time I'd ever arranged a meeting. Honestly, I wasn't even sure what I was going to find here. I just wanted to see if anyone had attempted anything similar, and what had happened.

Because I'd done a little bit of research with what was publicly available, and I hadn't liked what I found. Technically, corporations that worked for the Federal Government weren't supposed to be able to act against each other besides undercutting each other in bidding wars for contracts, etc.

However, I'd found a lot of information pointing to all of the manufacturers doing shady, underhanded things that I'd only ever heard companies doing in Central America, or parts of Africa before. Sure, I was paying mercenaries to guard Siler's Salvage and Assembly, but it had never really 'clicked' until recently just how in over my head I was regarding this sort of thing.

"Mr. Doe will see you now, Mister Blaze," an unassuming man said, gesturing for me to follow him into the depths of the SAFE field office.

I hadn't felt this nervous in a long time, and I should've kept my mouth shut, instead I asked the question that popped into my head.

"Is his name really John Doe?" I asked.

"Yes?" The man I assumed was an agent said with an odd look on his face as he glanced back. "John's a common enough name. So is Doe."

"Nevermind," I shook my head. I'd just made a fool of myself because I assumed that a cultural norm had passed on through the generations when it clearly hadn't. "I'm just an idiot."

"Whatever you say, sir," the man gestured for me to enter an office and closed the door behind me. Said office was as barren an office as could be. There was a small amount of paperwork unfinished on the desk, but nothing that contained critical information from what I could tell. There was a small safe in the far corner, and a fake window to round out what felt like the most stale office I'd ever been in.

"Mister Blaze," A sharp looking man in a set of dress slacks with an unbuttoned dress shirt stood up and extended a hand for me to shake. "I'm John Doe, I've been wondering when you were going to grace my office with your presence."

"Mister Doe," I felt awkward just saying it.

"You can call me John, if you don't mind me calling you Edmund. Now, take a seat. I assume whatever you have for me is important based on the size of the folder you brought with you," his sharp eyes trailed down to the folder before meeting mine. "So, what brings you to SAFE?"

"Well, I've been doing some research into my competitors, and I had some questions involving patents, how they were enforced, and where both the planetary and Federal governments lines are regarding intellectual property theft," I said, reaching in said folder for what I'd already found. "I've done some research on it, but there didn't seem to be as much information as I'd hoped."

"Well, I'll being by answering the third bit," John accepted the paper and set it down after glancing at it. "The planetary government has no ability to enforce laws or rules regarding goods that are sold to other worlds. The shipping clauses in the documents that bind the FWL together are the reason for this. A large portion of the taxes the Federal Government collects are from interplanetary trade. As far as intellectual property goes," he shrugged. "We protect it to a certain extent. A patent and IP is important, but with the Star League now defunct, we cannot enforce or pursue any legal actions beyond the borders of the FWL. Within our borders, things get a bit… Odd," He leaned forward. "But essentially, it boils down to one key aspect. If you cannot protect your own property. Then we are not responsible for what happens. The days of the Star League are long gone, Edmund. If they were, it'd be a lot easier to deal with IP and patents. Now," He shook his head. "It's everyone out for themselves. If you've got something you want hidden from the other corporations, then don't file a patent for it. Keep it internal. People can't make an attempt to steal something they don't know exists," He leaned back in his chair. "Now, was there anything else?"

"Yes, I wanted to know more about how SAFE operates and what we need to do to ensure we cooperate with you more…"




Date: October 17, 3029
Location: Concord, Free Worlds League

The pirates that had descended on the plains of Concord must have been particularly brave or stupid. Sergeant Austin noted as he saw a glimpse of said pirates across the hills. Usually, the sight of an assault 'mech meant that pirates wanted to go the other way and hit somewhere else.

This group, they must have been an advanced force for a larger band, or they were mercs who had just recently turned pirate. Because instead of turning the other way, they'd changed course to strike at the militia forces.

Of course, Austin did have to admit that a pair of 'mechs, one medium and one heavy didn't exactly inspire fear in the eyes of some newly turned pirates. Especially when it was an even number of units. The units that had been ready to go at a moment's notice was a lance of Scorpions and a pair of J. Edgars. Set that against an Enforcer, a Firestarter, a Wasp, and a Havester Ant Mech Mod… Well, he gave them about even odds of being able to fight off this group of pirates.

The first exchanges of fire between the pirates and the Concord militia had a few shots go wild, some strike and do armor damage, but nothing really happened outside of the two forces closing in on each other in the plains and open fields of the foothills of the mountains that led into the main cities and factories.

That is, until the J. Edgars got in range and Corporal Dunham's crews began to hammer the Wasp while Austin focused on the Enforcer facing him. On paper, the Enforcer and he were probably close to equal. Or they would be if he were in a proper battlemech instead of a militiamech. As it was, Austin was going to have to be careful to not overheat with his energy loadout.

One of his medium blazers melted armor off the Firestarter, a J. Edgar's armored skirt took damage in an exchange with the Wasp, and it fell to the ground, continuing its fire against anyone who came into range.

Then, Lieutenant Reagan tripped, falling over as she tried to back up to keep her eyes on everything, and the battlefield seemed to shift.

The lead pirate in the Enforcer immediately lit up on jump jets and moved to hit Reagan while the young officer was downed, getting in good hits with his autocannon and laser before Reagan rolled and forced herself back up to her feet. Her Mackie was a bit damaged, but she wasn't out of the fight yet. The same couldn't be said of one of the Scorpions, a streak of missiles from the MechMod hammered the sniper until smoke rose from the ruined chassis. They'd have to get Search and Rescue out later. But for now there was a skirmish to be won.

The pirates were definitely former Mercs. Because their gear was more maintained than it had any right to be, and as the fight wore on, Austin became exceedingly aware that he needed something other than the M-Blazers to use. He liked them, but the heat trade-offs meant he wasn't able to do as much as he'd like when using his jump jets. Swapping them out for a brace of medium lasers would do less damage to the enemy, but they'd allow him to be more flexible.

As he was duelling the Enforcer, he ignored the combat vehicle that had come around the hill until the thunder of an ack-twenty hammered into his torso, rocking him back and stripping all of the armor off of said part.

Miraculously though, he was still up and combat capable, if a bit wounded. So, he turned to keep that armor facing away from the Hetzer that had made an appearance while Lieutenant Reagan's own assault-class autocannon made short work of the Quikscell product.

The Wasp, meanwhile was in full retreat after a few more hits from the Scorpions in the distance. Leaving the Firestarter, the Enforcer, and an APC behind with support from a salvaged Fedsuns Striker.

His leg armor shattered, with some of the missiles from said light vehicle, and for a moment, Austin wished he had some missile carriers to hammer back. Alas, he didn't have them, and wishes weren't reality, so he pressed on, hitting his jump jets to arc over the Enforcer just in time for him to catch its Ack-ten to the leg that had just had the armor shattered on.

"Fucking shit," he swore, hitting his comms. "Pan pan pan, I'm going down." His 'mech tumbled to the ground and he felt his vision go dark for a moment as even with his bracing, the back of his head slammed into the back of the command chair.

Checking his sensors, he noted that he'd only been out for a few seconds, just long enough for the Firestarter to set one of his hovercraft ablaze before having to dump its MG ammo and leave for fear of an ammo detonation.

Austin forced the pain of a likely concussion to the side and stepped on his pedals, easing himself back up and letting the medium-weight pirate know that he was there with his large laser carving a path along the torsos and into the arm before the pirate turned and forced his Phoenix's good leg to bend backwards and in on itself sending Austin back to the ground.

This time, when he woke up, it was to the enemy fallen on the ground in its own crater, and the rest of the pirates dead or retreating. The only problem was that even if they'd won, they'd paid a pretty heavy cost for it. Losing a lance and a half of vehicles in return for one destroyed Vedette, an APC, a Hetzer, and a lone Enforcer wasn't the kind of trade a militia could afford to make all the time. If the crews didn't make it out, then they'd have to recruit more people and train them up to the level of the old crews.

"Stone cold," his radio crackled, and Austin realized that the LT had been trying to talk to him. "Stone Cold, this is Lieutenant Reagan, come in."

"LT, I'm here," Austin replied. "Damage and in need of a pickup, but I'm still here. Two of my weapons still work, too."

"Well, that's good news," the LT laughed nervously. "I've got salvage and rescue operations en route. I think we'll be able to use the pirate Enforcer. Get you an upgrade. My 'mech just needs a new coat of armor. I don't know if we can get yours back into the field."

"One M-Blazer, a pair of legs, and she'll be good as new," Austin double checked his reports. "If there's one thing Siler's seems to do right, it's build them right. I've seen 'mechs heavier than this take less damage," Austin rested his head against the back of the chair. "Lemme know when S&R gets here. My hatch is blocked until I can get shifted."

With that, Stone Cold closed his eyes and took a nap. Both he and his 'mech had earned it.

 

[MarkWarrior]

Chapter 36

Date: December 14, 3029
Location: Kalidasa, Free Worlds League

"So, we've gotten word back from several militia units that have used our 'mechs. One group faced off against pirates, one group just figured something out during training, and another did some testing," I glanced at both Susannah and Billy. Eddy and Sylvie had already sent me their opinions via the HPG a week ago. "Our Phoenix is durable enough to fight against proper battlemechs. But, we didn't account for the heat properly when we went with our Medium Blazers as the backup weapons to the large laser. The increased firepower worked well on the Mackie, but not on the Phoenix."

"Yeah," Billy shrugged. "I can see how that happened. What are you thinking we should do about it?"

"Develop refit kits and start with reworking our design," I replied. "The original Phoenix had a PPC and a pair of two-rack SRMs. If we're fine with making the design changes, we should be able to shift and provide two options. One is a SRM-4 rack in the left shoulder, and a medium laser in the right."

"The other is a trio of medium lasers," Billy put it together. "They won't have the firepower of the M-Blazers, but they'll give a bit more adaptability when it comes to managing a heat curve."

"That's great and all," Susannah interrupted. "But what's it going to cost to refit the chassis we already have to the new standards when we decide on them?"


"We're not going to be doing that work," I shook my head. "We'll develop the refit kits, and we'll sell them just above cost to anyone who's purchased a Phoenix from us. But we're not going to refit them from how they come from the factory."

I already knew that given a few years, that I'd be able to replicate at least one kind of double heat sink. In fact, one of the things that I'd done when Rebecca and I'd started FireFlight Industries was start working on what would eventually become a Double Heat Sink factory. Now, it'd be five years before I had them available as more than prototypes, but it was the future. If I changed the Phoenix too much, then we'd end up wasting money instead of being able to just throw some double heat sinks and more armor on the design.

"So, refit kits," Susannah sighed. "I assume we're going to have to print out manuals for the refits as well?"

"That's cheap and easy to do," I shrugged. "We'll just make sure we document our notes on the process when we refit our prototype chassis and we'll include it with the kits. It's pennies compared to everything overall."

"Oh, I'm not worried about the cost," Susannah laughed. "I just hate having to proofread and correct everyone's spelling mistakes."

"Fair enough," Billy said sheepishly, scratching the back of his head and glancing at me as if he was the sole person who screwed up in that regard.

"If we're going to be setting all of this up on top of training people on the Mercury systems as we bring them in, then we're going to need a timeline. Right now, we're still waiting on construction, but Skobel's supposed to start delivering some of the equipment for testing and quality control by the end of–," Susannah consulted her planner. "Thirty-Thirty. Which means that if we don't get the refit kits done before then, we're going to end up with split focus on the two projects."

"Even if we run long on it, it's fine," I replied, trying to figure out how to word things to assuage her concerns. "The Mercury factory isn't going to be ready until late quarter thirty-two. If it takes us until thirty-one to test and produce our refit kits, then that's perfectly acceptable. I'd rather us take our time and put out a good product than rush this and have a bunch of bad refit kits go out. Right now, even with our 'mechs not doing exactly what we wanted them to do, they're being praised for durability and the ability to take a beating and still function. We're not old and storied enough for us to take a hit to our reputation by putting out a bad product. So, we're going to do this right."

"That, and most of us left Quikscell for a reason," Billy crossed his arms. "Subpar work makes most of us engineers hate ourselves. Only reason we ignored it for so long was that Quikscell was the only place that was willing to hire external engineers. Kali Yama trains and hires in house, so do most of the other companies. Honestly, once we're established enough, we'll probably want to do the same," the grizzled engineer reached up to scratch his cheek.

"Anyway," Susannah sighed. "So, we need to actually document what we want before we start trying to refit the chassis for it. Otherwise it's wasted time and money."

"Billy and I'll write something up," I replied, tapping my fingers on the table. "Problem is, just because something works on paper doesn't mean that's how the Chassis is going to work once we start refitting it. So, it'll be more of a guideline until we get it finished."

"I understand," The secretary nodded. "Just trying to make sure everything stays documented."


"And we appreciate it," Billy chuckled. "Plenty that goes wrong could be avoided if we actually knew what people were doing and when they were doing it."

"I'll work on the initial specs," I said. "But we can start working on that come Monday. Now, both of you enjoy your weekend, I know I will."



Date: December 15, 3029


"Well, based on what we went over when we went to the range, I've narrowed down our small-arms choices to three rifles, two pistols, and we settled on that one SRM launcher," She nodded towards the tube leaning up in the corner of my bedroom.

"That was the only one that didn't make me think it was going to blow up in my face," I shuddered at remembering just how close the other launchers had sent the missiles. "And I really don't remember which rifles did what."

"Well, we've got three basic platforms," Rebecca began to explain. "The Federated-Barret M42B rifle system is technically it's own self-contained ecosystem of parts and accessories. It's a direct impingement system based on the Federated Long-rifle."

Honestly, the only thing that really stuck out in my mind about the rifle was that it reminded me of the handful of memes I'd seen that had the M4A1 SOCOM variants back on Earth. Only, this thing was chambered in a round that would have knocked me on my ass if it weren't for the built-in recoil mitigation system.

There were two other weapons there. One a model that the Lyran Commonwealth produced that reminded me of a beefed up MP5. Which I only recognized from the movie Die Hard. And the ohter reminded me of an AK.

"The M42 might be the best bang for buck," I said, looking at the trio. "Sure, the licensing costs more, but it's one system that can be converted into whatever the customers need in a moment's notice. As far as pistols go," I looked at the pair. "While I prefer shooting the thirty-eleven, the Glock is idiot-proof."

"I agree," Rebecca grinned. "I kinda figured we'd end up with these as the final ones, but I wanted to make sure you had some input into the decision-making here."

"You're the expert on this," I shrugged. "I know nothing about any of this shit. If you think something's worth it or not, then we'll roll with it. The only thing I care about is making sure we have great products and honor our warranties. That, and that the one project we discussed remains in play."

"If you're right and that one pays off, then it's going to be a game changer," Rebecca laughed, her green eyes dancing in the darkening light of dusk from outside the window. "Honestly, I"m just glad I got to try out some gear and weapons I'd been meaning to purchase but hadn't had a reason to yet."

"While we're on the subject of factories, I ended up getting in touch with the factories that make the cargo containers for the ships and trucks. We can direct purchase them in bulk at rates that are cheaper than if we built a factory for them ourselves. Also, they're willing to make minor modifications for us to better utiilize them for the installation of the fusion engine and armory shelves."

"You talk to the owner of that old car factory yet?" Rebecca asked.

"No," I shook my head. "The guy's a retired billionaire, I feel like he's just going to laugh in my face and send me off. He doesn't need money anymore."

"Then we're back at square one and we have to find another source of fusion engines," Rebecca shrugged. "It's not the end of the plan, even if we have to buy out the production from a couple of different sources. Make the call."

"Right," I sighed, collapsing backwards onto my bed. "I'll do that on Monday."

"You'll do it tomorrow," Rebecca curled up into my side and rested her head on my chest. "If it weren't nearly night, I'd be pushing you to call now."

"Fair enough," I kissed her forehead. "I know it's an odd thing to be nervous about, but for some reason I can't shake it. I can meet with and discuss things with Skobel or any number of other companies without any issues, The militia, our customers, I can do complex negotiations, help work on a 'mech design, or anything else you can come up with. But when I think about meeting this guy, I get anxious."

"Brains are weird," Rebecca muttered. "If they always did what we wanted them to, then we'd have mastered the entire universe. Now shut up, you're moving my pillow."

A few seconds later, and she was gently snoring away. Leaving me alone with my thoughts about the future. In a few weeks, it was going to be 3030. If things went well, one year later in 3031, FireFlight Industries would be launching with a flagship product, Siler's would be halfway through the construction and finalization of the Mercury, and we'd be one step closer to having a true battlemech in production.

It was all going well, almost too well. I had never had this much good luck in my previous life. So, a large part of me that I buried under the surface was simply waiting for the other shoe to drop. For me to lose everything once again.

I just couldn't shake the feeling that there was disaster coming. That something was out there waiting for the opportune moment. I could see it, the blood on the horizon. Just out of reach and ready to show the storm that was coming.

But nothing had happened yet. So, I would continue to make plans, carry them out, and do my best to be prepared for the worst. It was all I could and would be able to do until the disaster finally struck.

 

[MarkWarrior]

Chapter 37

Date: January 24, 3030
Location: Solaris VII, Lyran Commonwealth

Vincent Stewart had been on Solaris VII for more than a few months now. His latest venture in gaining fame and fortune to elevate his minor branch of the family had involved bankrupting his own finances to purchase a 'mech that he had used for the Solaris Championships that had led into Christmas.

Said 'mech was now nothing more than a pair of legs and a medium laser. He'd been forced to eject under a barrage of PPCs and missiles that had struck his Orion's ammunition bins. The resulting detonation had destroyed everything except for the legs. Leaving him with third place and the pieces of a 'mech that had worked through the entirety of the Class IV match.

As he sat in the back of the arena, figuring out what he was going to do with the remnants of his 'mech. An angel seemed to appear.

"Hey!" said angel waved her hand in front of his face to get his attention. "You gonna move your shit, or what?"

"Huh?" Vincent shook his head and realized he was blocking the exit to this part of the arena.

"Yeah, I'm moving," the nobleman sighed, heading to the cab of the flatbed he'd leased for his 'mech. The parts of his Orion were strapped to said flatbed and he backed up and out of the way as the attractive woman and a pair of 'mechs he'd faced earlier began to head out of the arena building.

Still, placing third left Vincent with enough prize money that he could continue to rent out the small apartment he'd been living out of while competing. So, he'd be returning and seeing what else he could make work with what little money and motivation he had left.

Pulling out of the arena, he drove to his apartment. There was usually an afterparty following any sort of big match. This being the first off-season match after the 3029 championship meant that there was a lot of opportunity for networking. Networking which would hopefully provide him an opportunity to either find a place among a decently-named stable, or someone who would be willing to sponsor him in a new 'mech.

The food there would be free, the drinks would flow, and best of all, there were always plenty of young, eligible young ladies at such events. Now, most of them were vapid airheads. But occasionally there were some with intelligence who might be worth pursuing if they were placed properly to fuel Vincent's ambitions.

He just had to make sure he introduced himself the right way. Making enemies right now would mean his quest would be over before it really started.

–
–

Solaris VII parties were radically different from what you might see in the average noble house across the Inner Sphere. At one of the events the Stewarts would have hosted back on Stewart itself, Vincent would have expected a fancy ballroom, delicate foods, etc. Here, it was a mixture of star Mechwarriors, groupies, and nobles trying to blend in and enjoy the environment without embarrassing themselves.

Because he didn't win, Vincent didn't exactly have a place of honor at the party, but the invitation was still welcomed all the same, and Vincent quickly found himself sitting with and talking with the second place stable.

"Look, I'm just saying that the current Class IV announcer does an awful job," Duncan Fisher, the second-place mechwarrior shrugged. He'd been piloting the Rifleman that had gotten the lucky hit on Vincent's Orion. "He makes the matches feel boring."

"He says the right words," A woman who'd been introduced as Sylvie Siler, sighed and continued eating her steak. "That's all that matters."

"No!" Duncan replied. "It's not about the words you use. It's about the passion, about making your audience feel like they're actually present and watching the fights in person. An announcer is fun for the stadiums and the arenas, sure. But they're not there for them. They're there to paint a picture with words about how things are going for those who can only listen in via audio."

"The man kept rambling, and it was clear to Vincent that this wasn't the first time he'd ranted about this to Sylvie.

"So, outside of placing well and talking about announcers, what does your stable do differently?" Vincent turned to Sylvie.

"Well, we're actually doing things the old fashioned way," Sylvie admitted. "I'm part owner of a company trying to break into the mech market. Sure, the Rifleman we have here is a one-off, but it's proof that we can make good products that can endure, even if it's only in a tournament environment, it's still a way to battletest and prove our work."

"What company is it?" Vincent asked, his brain churning with how to turn this to his advantage.

"Siler's Salvage and Assembly," the blonde offered in response. "We're currently producing and selling militiamechs, but we've got a battlemech factory in the works on Kalidasa if you're ever interested in purchasing something from us."

"I might be interested acquiring a new ride," Vincent said, remembering the briefing he'd read on new and upcoming companies to try and invest in. "But I'm much more interested in you."

This, this was his way to recoup his family's fortunes and start turning around his branch of the family. Great-Uncle Hector wouldn't be the only name people said when referring to the Stewart family.

"What'd ya wanna know?" Sylvie asked. "I'm pretty much an open book. Ain't got nothin' here to hide."

"Let's start with the beginning," Vincent shrugged. "Seems to me like your story's interesting enough, and I'm not really here for the rest of the party."

Girls could come and go, opportunity not seized when it was presented was failure. He had the opportunity, he now had to act.



Date: February 21, 3030
Location: Kalidasa, Free Worlds League

Mr. Salinas was one of the handful of billionaires in the Free Worlds League that had earned his money via the planetary scale instead of the interstellar one. Usually, someone found a niche that they could get funding for and spread out through a handful of planets to build up their wealth and make it work for both them and others.

Salinas on the other hand, had started in the local automotive industry as a factory worker, had eventually bought said factory from the owners, and then had spread into the local telecoms business, becoming the main producer and seller of satellites, rockets, and getting into space without dropships being necessary. He was one of the ones we were negotiating with regarding some orbital facilities to begin the construction of what I knew would help out in the future.

Endo Steel was still years out, even though whatever this ability was had spelled out everything from the formula to the machines and how to make it, the fact was that it was expensive, even in modern terms with dropships to get a proper facility built to the exactly what we needed to manufacture the 'magic' material.

But, I was just going through this all in my head because Salinas had retired a decade ago. Passing off his corporations to his son after having spent forty years raising and working with and bringing his family in on the business.

The original car factory Mr. Salinas had bought had long since been mothballed in favor of an improved one was what we were interested in purchasing for FireFlight industries. So, both Rebecca and I were here for a meeting. Because it wasn't the company he'd founded that owned the factory. It was the man himself.

A man who now welcomed us into his home office in preparation for a deal to be made.

"So, I've done my research on the two of you," the man sat down, and gestured for us to do the same. "I assume you two have done the same on me. I'm aware of what you want to purchase from me, and I'm willing to hear you out. But you must understand," He poured three glasses of bourbon and sipped at one of them. "I don't need the money. Anything you give me is just going to be reinvested into what my family is continuing to build. So, sell your idea to me. Make me want to buy into it. If you can do that, I'll just hand over the factory to you, no strings attached. It's currently a tax break, but there are others I can use. If you can't convince me, then you'll need to find someone else."

He leaned back and opened a drawer before withdrawing a cigar to go with his bourbon and gesturing at both me and my fiance.

"You may begin whenever you're ready."

Author's Note: Shorter chapter this week, but I'm on a work trip and have been busy. I'm probably going to roll some dice to see if Edmund and Rebecca managed to convince Salinas to give them the factory or if they have to figure something else out.

 

[MarkWarrior]

Chapter 38

My brain short-circuited and I glanced over at Rebecca only for her eyes to essentially tell me that she was just as lost as I was. I mean, how was I supposed to sell a project to a billionaire who didn't need the revenue, didn't need the project, and could just as easily use the factory for himself.

That said, it didn't exactly feel like he was looking for a monetary reason to do this. It felt like he was looking for an idea, a dream, a goal he could throw himself behind. After all, Salinas had kept his entire business and its operations in house. His sons and daughter had been raised and worked their way up in the company, and now his eldest had taken over as the head of the company and was walking in his father's footsteps.

It was like looking into the past. Here, a man had achieved the American Dream, even if it probably wasn't called that here. He'd gone from a family with nothing to generational wealth in one generation through hard work, effort, and some luck, and according to everything I'd found, he'd brought his entire family into his work with him.

Taking a deep breath and glancing at Rebecca, I calmed down as I saw nothing but trust in her eyes. If we didn't manage to convince him, then we could find another option, another route that would allow us to actually accomplish our goals.

"Mister Salinas, my goal in all of my companies, whether it be working with Sylvie Siler from Siler's Salvage and Assemblie, to starting this company with my fiance, Rebecca, is to ensure that I can take care of everyone possible. Whether they're a customer that bought one of my products who's completely covered by a warranty, to an employee with a family on the way. FireFlight industries is an extension of that, but instead of focusing on the 'mechs, on the big things that people always see, we're shrinking down, we're moving away from the big picture and thinking of the settlements that are struggling, not just here on Kalidasa, but out in the Free Worlds League and the rest of the Inner Sphere. We're making it tangible, possible and within reach for the smallest of villages on the most desolated of planets to be able to afford a place that will always have clean water, power, and shelter from anything that life will throw at it. The Inner Sphere isn't a safe place for many people, we're going to make it a little bit safer."

The man simply puffed on his cigar for a brief moment, his eyes closed before he set it down and let it smoke above an ashtray. Then he leaned forward and his eyes locked onto mine, a burning intensity in his hazel eyes. "I'm interested," He said. "Now tell me exactly how you plan on making the Inner Sphere a safer place…"



Date: March 6, 3030
Location: Atreus, Free Worlds League

"Good for Vincent," Samuel Stewart read through the report that SAFE had handed him. It seemed that instead of his siblings taking his advice on who to invest in and start working with, his cousin and member of one of the lesser branches had seized the initiative instead.

Unfortunately, besides moving some assets to keep an eye on his cousin, he couldn't offer any more assistance. Right now, he was busy pulling back forces from Alula Australis, Castor, Denebola, Devil's Rock, Graham IV, Marcus, Oliver, Pollux and Zosma. Janos believed that the League was about to be attacked by the Lyran Commonwealth and the Tikonov Free Republic and the Captain-General would much rather cede worlds than lose regiments.

Samuel disagreed. After all, they'd already lost four industrial worlds to the Tikonov Free Republic, and the more he looked at the political climate of the Free Worlds League, the more concerned he grew with both the internal politics and the potential for another civil war. The Duchy of Andurien was making the usual waves, but something about it felt different this time.

The Capellan Confederation was at the weakest point it had been in the entirety of its history, and Janos Marik was simply pulling forces back in seeming cowardice. So, Samuel was doing his job as directed. Shifting the nine regiments back further into the Free Worlds League. That wasn't all he was doing, though.

He'd taken loose funds, thing that had been set aside for units that were going to be operating further away from supply chains that had now been pulled back and relocated them to the militia on the borders of the Tikonov Free Republic and the Lyran Commonwealth. Earmarking it for Militiamechs in the hope that it'd allow the local militias to be able to reinforce their units with just that much more firepower.

That was the hope, anyway. Unfortunately, there wasn't anything else that Samuel could really do, he was a being locked behind the constraints of his position. Trapped by layers of bureaucracy that no one should have to endure.

Still, he carried on. Maybe his lifetime would be the one in which the endless wars ended. Maybe, just maybe Samuel would finally be a part of a nation that wasn't locked in an endless struggle over a throne that hadn't existed for hundreds of years.

Only time would tell…




Date: March 20, 3030
Location: Kalidasa, Free Worlds League

I wasn't entirely sure which part of my spiel had convinced Salinas to help us out, but whatever it was, I'd both failed and succeeded in equal measure. The man ended up retaining ownership of the factory that made the cars and the small fusion reactors that powered said cars.

However, he'd done something interesting. He'd leased the factory out to us for a very cheap price, and had thrown his own money into Fireflight industries in the form of a low interest loan. Then he'd brought back all of the retirees who had worked in the factory with him and had spent money out of his own pocket to have them train the people Rebecca and I had recruited.

So, with everything now lined up, it was time to start piecing everything together. It'd take us the better part of a year to spin up full production, but we'd have demo products ready for various expos and sectors by the middle of the year.

While Rebecca was working on that, I was swamped with paperwork and working on getting orders. We'd recently been hit with a ton of new orders, and I'd had to rearrange some staff around in order to make production go more smoothly for the rest of the year.

That, and Billy and I had to restructure the machines a bit. In the process of conducting routine maintenance, we'd accidentally stumbled upon something that I'd known was possible due to the strange ability in the back of my head, but hadn't really ever put together.

By tweaking the central points of the Chassis and cockpit and making them Battlemech-grade, we kept the price about the same for each 'mech while freeing up some space and tonnage for another ton of armor, a spare heat sink, and a center-torso medium laser. It boosted pilot and 'mech survivability, only elevated the cost by a hundred thousand or so, and the cost of repairs stayed the exact same.

We even did the same with the Phoenix. Admittedly, it was only saving a ton or so in weight once we'd shored up the structure, but if we refit it for medium lasers instead of medium blazers, (which we did make sure to do after the feedback we'd received), then we could cram in three medium lasers, an extra heat sink, and a half ton of armor. Again, improving everything about the 'mech and making it something truly in between a militiamech and a proper battlemech.

Of course, we weren't going to be able to make the changes to the 'mech that were already in the lines and on their way through, so at the end of April, when the first batch of orders for the year were finished and shipped, I'd take both factories offline for a week so that Billy, some engineers, and I could finish making the adjustments for shifting the factory over to the new hybrids.

There was one thing that somewhat bothered me though. Everytime I looked at one of the new hybrids, the back of my brain started to fill in the blanks. Odd was the best word to describe it. Because it felt like my ability knew something about the future that I didn't, Because it didn't just list Siler's Salvage and Assembly as the only manufacturer. No, there were others that appeared. We hadn't even finished the prototype, and it knew, somehow what we were doing.


MSK-8M Mackie
Frankenmech Chassis
Manufacturers: Siler's Salvage and Assembly, ********, ********, Skobel Mechworks
Weapons:
Long-Range
–Large Lasers(2)
Medium-Range
1 Medium Blazer
1 Medium Laser

I tore my head away before I created some sort of paradox and began to focus on my paperwork again. But for some reason, I couldn't shake the thought of what the other companies might be. I was pretty sure no one had stolen our work (yet). But the thought nagged at me, and eventually, I sent copies of the design and all of the instructions we'd used to reprogram the lines to do what we wanted.

Then I opened my notebook and looked at what I'd scribbled into the margins. There were a handful of 'mechs that were sitting in the salvage yard waiting to be tinkered with. After all, there were plenty of primitive designs that had never made it beyond the prototype stage that had somehow ended up in this junkheap. Some things that probably should have worked, but due to the nature of economies of scale, or other circumstances failed. I'd even seen a couple of 'mechs that according to my ability were 'non-canon'.

Whatever that meant, I wasn't sure. But for some reason the name Siler was super familiar. I just couldn't put my finger on exactly where I remembered it from.

The important thing was that we kept trucking along. We had momentum, we had resources, and we were leveraging everything we had. In a few years, we'd build additions that allowed us to make both the hybrids and standard battlemechs side by side. Because the market was large enough for both militiamech hybrids and regular battlemechs.

Shaking my head free of the future, I finished another sheet of paperwork before allowing the distractions to resume. Notebook in hand, I began to flip through all of the various 'exctinct' designs or one-offs that I'd seen and documented.

Eventually, I'd like to see if I could revive some of them. But for now, I was going to stick with what had some weight behind it. Machines that had been battleproven were easier to sell as hybrids because we'd only make a handful of alterations to the design before seeing if it was viable.

"Edmund," Susannah called in through the open office door. "I've got a man upstairs in the lobby who said you reached out to him after he sent you a letter. He says his name is Ian Macullum the Sixth."

"Send him on down," I replied, and began straightening up my desk from the reams of paperwork I'd been doing.

–
–

Ian glanced down at his watch before looking up again at the Mackie that was on clear display here at the new factories being built here on Kalidasa. His grandfather had passed on the family tradition to him instead of letting it die with him.

It was kind of a tradition in and of itself at this point. It almost always skipped a generation. Moving from the main grandparent to one of the grandchildren.

The last few generations since the fall of the Star League had skipped over 'mechs in favor of finishing the small arms that had been manufactured during the birth of the Hegemony and working their way through the Succession Wars. Documenting and sharing all of the information they could find.

In fact, Ian's brothers were still working on that. But he'd decided to branch out into something a bit different. He was going to start with 'mechs. And what better way to get his start than with a modern reproduction of the original chassis?

 

[MarkWarrior]

Chapter 39

Date: April 2, 3030
Location: Solaris VII, Lyran Commonwealth

Vincent Stewart hadn't expected to just 'click' with Sylvie Siler as well as he had. She was witty, funny, and easily smart enough to understand that he had multiple reasons for trying to become a part of their stable.

The Siler's Salvage stable wasn't large, by any means. It only held Duncan Fisher, Samantha Webley, and now he himself as the mechwarriors. They had three mechs, the custom Rifleman that Duncan drove as their primary 'mech, the heavily modified Archer as the 'mech that Samantha piloted. The third 'mech was a frankenmech their engineer was piecing together out of various Orion parts they'd pulled out of scrapyards across Solaris VII.

Sure, technically all of the pieces should fit and work together, but in reality, they very much didn't want to cooperate and work together. Some parts had to be slightly modified or altered to work within the tolerances of other parts, and depending on the year the parts they pulled from the scrapyard was made, they were either really good, or really awful parts.

But that wasn't something that Vincent knew all too much about. In fact, outside of whatever it was Eddie had told him, he was mostly just doing whatever he was told in order to make sure his 'mech was put back together enough for him to compete.

At least, that's what he was doing when he wasn't trying to woo Sylvie. Yes, she was technically 'new' money. But she was still his best chance at gaining prestige, money, and everything else he'd need to establish his branch of the Stewart family outside of the aegis of his cousins.

He just had to make sure that he played his cards properly. Because while he liked Sylvie, as well as the work that her company was doing, he also knew that if he was going to use her as the platform to launch from then he was going to have to make himself invaluable to her and to everyone else around.

So, he started tutoring her in what was essentially a crash course in negotiations. It was clear that her partner, this 'Edmund Blaze' had done well in giving her a foundation in how to negotiate and work on deals, but he had obviously not worked with Nobility frequenty, if at all. Given their position, that was unacceptable in the long run, and over the last three months, what had begun as a way to just ingratiate himself had turned into the beginnings of a romance.

A romance that Vincent fully intended to take advantage of.

"So, why did Edmund and you decide to send you to Solaris?" Vincent finally asked while they were out picking through a scrapyard for more Orion parts.

"Oh, I kinda asked to do that once Edmund and I had the idea to sponsor our own pilots and sell our 'mechs via the tournaments," Sylvie said in between bites of food. "I've always preferred getting hands-on with things. Whether it be 'mechs or anything else, and once the factories were set up, I really didn't enjoy doing anything other than the refits we do for the Quikscell products the Militia purchases. This was a way for me to actually be useful in the company I helped found while also doing something I enjoy."

"So, Edmund is the main decision maker for the company?" Vincent asked directly.

"It depends," Sylvie shrugged. "He's generally been the prime negotiator, but anytime it's something critical, he runs it by me first. When he bought part of Gramps old scrapyard, he said he did me a favor by only taking 49% ownership. That just in case he ever did something I wasn't alright with, that I could always tell him no." Sylvie sipped at her drink. "So far, I ain't ever seen a reason to veto any of his ideas. He takes care of all of the business side and I get to pretty much do whatever I enjoy the most."

Vincent simply nodded and allowed the subject to change to the next Solaris matches that they were prepping for. He'd have to figure out how to leverage everything he was learning as time went on. For now, he was content to let things move along as they currently were.


Date: April 10, 3030
Location: Kalidasa, Free Worlds League

Hammer shifted in the new Mackie prototypes that his employer had asked that he and his company test before being put into full production. He never would get used to actually using new equipment, and was much more comfortable piloting the Griffin he'd bought from Siler's all those years ago, but every now and then, it was nice to be able to hop in and enjoy the 'new mech' smell.

"Control, this is Hammer, I'm powered up and ready to move through the test," Hammer lifted his hands off the comms controls and began to put the Mackie through its paces. Beginning with a short walk, he marveled at how just a few 'minor' changes seemed to make the 'mech more responsive. According to the briefing, they'd updated the cockpit and center torso, changed up a bit of the weaponry and sinking, and had left everything else pretty much the same.

But, just updating the cockpit had made a world of difference. It wasn't that the 'mech was genuinely 'faster' than the pure Militiamech Mackies Siler's had been building before. It was that it was more responsive. The older versions had had a bit of a delay, a stutter that you almost couldn't put into words. It wasn't bad per se, but it made people who were used to even old battlemechs a bit awkward in piloting.

Now though, he felt like this was a genuine battlemech. If he didn't know beforehand that everything except the cockpit and center torso was industrialmech parts, he'd have never known in the first place.

"Hammer, control confirms your status, you may proceed to the testing site when ready," the calm voice of Susannah replied. "Please remember that everything done both in and around the prototype is recorded for testing and review."

"Understood control, I'll try to keep the language to a minimum," Hammer grinned. Siler's had one of the best locations for training gunnery and sensor skills out of anywhere he'd ever been. The old junkyard had been repurposed once all of the useful 'mechs and vehicles had been pried out of hte piles. Which left more than a few acres empty barring piles of metal that threw off basic sensors sweeps and made targeting difficult. Then, there were obstacles they'd thrown in, along with repurposed weapons turrets to simulate enemy fire along various avenues.

So, stepping out of the test bay, Hammer began the simulated assault. A part of him wished for the PPCs of the original Mackie but the large lasers were perfectly usable for most situations. Not that anyone would be able to really find PPCs in the League, anyway.

Hammer immediately lit up the first 'target' as soon as it appeared on his sensors, evading the return fire of a round from an autocannon in the process. Of course, he was in an assault 'mech with sixteen and a half tons of armor, but that didn't mean that he was going to waste any of it if it came to a real battle.

But a test run wasn't the battlefield, and part of a good test was submitting a new design or revision to any circumstance it might face on the battlefield, and so Hammer decided to allow the next few attacks to hit his armor to see how the gyro handled the new balance and shift in weight with the refits.

–
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"How's it handling?" I asked Billy when I entered the control tower for our prototype testing area.

"Our mercs seem to be enjoying them," He showed the tri-vid feed with a pair of Mackies and a lone Phoenix moving through various scenarios. "The Phoenix seems to be doing much better overall than the original one we put out."

"It was a learning experience," I admitted. "Sometimes what people need out in the field isn't the same thing as what we envision here in the factory or in a perfect environment. It's why we innovate and have our customers give us feedback."

"Well, something we didn't anticipate was how much the internal wiring and responsiveness of our 'mechs increased when we made the upgrades," Billy tapped a feed that showed what the 'mech's computer was telling us about everything. "Overall responsiveness and potential reaction times are up by thirty percent. I knew that battlemechs had a better response time, but I never expected it to be that significant by just changing a handful of parts."

"Well, we have the data now," I shrugged, taking a seat and looking out in the distance where the Mercury factory was still being worked on. "So, we can incorporate it into any future builds. Hell, we might be able to make some modifications to the myomers to assist with everything."

I said that knowing that one of the things that had popped into my head was called 'triple-strength' myomer, and that it'd probably be one of the things that would make our 'mechs even more effective.

Admittedly though, one of the 'ammunition' types that my ability had generated when looking at an ammo bin was 'anti triple-strength myomer- missiles. So, I'd have to figure out a way to 'break' my own ability in order to make something immune to said missiles, at least for now.

But that was a project to send on to Eddie along with some funding so he could test it in the Solaris games. Our job here on Kalidasa was to provide the basic equipment that would support and supplement any militia in the Free Worlds League at an affordable cost.

Was it glamorous? Not particularly. While we were just sticking with militiamechs and the Mercury (Once it finally released), we'd never obtain the reputation that Kali Yama or any of the other big names carried. Their reputations had been built up over centuries, and outside of a few issues like the recent Liberator debacle that I aimed to take advantage of shortly, they weren't going to be taking a fall anywhere.

We only had to fail once right now, and our rep would tank, so we had to put out a good product, every single time. It was going to cost us more in quality control in the short and long-term, but better that than having to spend more money on reputation.

"So, what'd you think of that discussion with Kali Yama?" I asked Billy about a meeting we'd had a few weeks ago after corresponding with Sylvie via letter and Comstar.

"I think that we're taking a gamble to make something work that they couldn't with all of their money," Billy sighed. "I get that they're willing to sell us the tooling for pennies on the Eagle, but we're taking a risk with the loans to buy it from them."

"I know that," I agreed. "But everything in our business is a gamble sooner or later, and if we can make the Liberator work, then we've got two proper battlemechs at our disposal instead of just one," I gestured towards the Mercury factory. "Proper battlemechs sell better than militiamechs, even with our upgrades, and we can eventually use that funding to construct proper 'mech factories for our two flagship models."

"I know, and I agree," Billy nodded. "But it feels like we're moving all too fast. I mean, we were restoring 'mechs and tanks five years ago."

"It's move or die," I replied. "Right now we're on good terms with Kali Yama, and they don't consider us a threat. If we don't take advantage of goodwill and generosity now, then we won't be in a position to do it later."

"I just hope you know what you're doing," Billy sighed. "You're going to have to fix whatever's wrong with the 'mech and the lines. Eddie's not here to bail you out if you fuck up."

"If I fuck up, it's on me," I nodded. "It's always been this way, and it always will be. Anything I do, the buck stops with me, and no one else. Just trust me on this."

"Oh, I trust you," Billy chuckled. "It's the technology that Kali Yama was using that I don't trust. If it told them their battlemechs should work, then something got jacked up, or the Feds wouldn't have bailed on the contract. Just be careful. Pushing the envelope is all well and good, and needs to be done sometimes. But sometimes you gotta slow down."

"Maybe sometimesm," I grinned. "But not this time. Damn the torpedoes, full steam ahead!"