Wherever the Universe Takes Me
by Ulquiorra9000
Chapter 1
Harlech, Outreach
Federated Commonwealth
February 6, 3041
Starting life as a mercenary, a sell-sword, was the second-strangest concept to Chen Yeung. The first was traveling willy-nilly into the Federated Commonwealth, home of the Davion warmongers.
Oh, well.
"Registration is right this way, good sir," a MRB official said with a well-practiced smile once Chen stepped into its headquarters. "If you have any other questions, someone will be available to help."
"Got it. Thanks." Chen had to admit, ComStar knew hospitality. As he made his way further in the huge, pyramid-like building, he passed soft lighting overhead, plush deep red carpets underfoot, smooth walls, and even potted plants. He was hardly alone; the mercenary business was vibrant as ever, even in these interwar years. And even though the MRB was only recently transitioning itself from Galatea to Outreach, the place looked like it had always been the Inner Sphere's sell-sword capital.
It also made him realize just how far he had wandered from his original path. Sian, the CCAF, his old lancemates... relegated to the dusty past.
A woman with another well-practiced smile offered Chen a computer tablet in the waiting room, and he sat with the other hopeful mercenaries and typed in his personal data.
Name: Chen Yeung
Date of Birth: April 18, 3012
Place of Birth: Pine Grove General Hospital, Capella
Skills:
Chen hesitated on that one, his fingers poised over the touch-screen keyboard. What could he do? Plus, he had the awkward situation of being dispossessed: a MechWarrior without a 'Mech mount. Some people took dispossessed to mean useless, but Chen hadn't taken five jumps for someone to deem him useless. Rolling his shoulders, Chen narrowed his eyes and typed in:
Skills: BattleMech piloting and gunnery, unarmed combat, small arms combat, strategy, language interpretation
Experience: CCAF tour of duty, 3032-3039 (honorable discharge), Death Commandos tryout company, 3040
Then there was more mundane info, such as blood type, health history such as any mental issues or allergies or previous surgeries, criminal record... it was exhaustive, just like one would expect from ComStar. Chen wrapped it up and handed back the tablet once he pressed [Submit data].
"Thank you, sir," the woman said politely once Chen handed back the tablet. "Please visit again at your leisure."
The place almost felt like an expensive hotel, rather than a place where men and women hired each other to shoot and blow shit up. Funny how ComStar does that.
Don't worry about ComStar, Chen chided himself as he wandered off. There was an air-taxi stop nearby. You're here for you. Focus on that.
The taxi ride was uneventful, but at least gave Chen a great aerial view of Harlech on the way to a nearby hotel.
*o*o*o*o*
"You wouldn't believe it, Mei," Chen said later in his hotel room, just past 10:00. He sat on the corner of his bed. "I'm all the way out here in Davion space. Yeah, I know, those bastards. But I'm not here for them. I'm trying something new."
He slowly turned over the wooden charm in his hands, the one with "Little Dragon" carved in Mandarin on its front face. "I think you'd like this place. Crowded, yeah, noisy, sure, but it feels so alive and proud. We glorify war here, and make no apology for it. I'd like to think that deep down, we all respect the spectre of death, even if we throw ourselves before it every day with impunity."
Chen swallowed and kept turning the charm over and over, as though new words would appear on it. He'd kept it on him during the Jumpship ride here from Sian, as well, but being here now, at Outreach...
He was at his new home. It was new, and scary.
"So, uh... I'll keep you posted. I don't know what kinds of comrades I'll ride with in the coming years, but even if they're honorless dogs, I'll keep my chin held high." Chen gently set the charm on his bedside table and switched on the TV to a local horse race. He flipped through the channels; cooking shows, sports news, coverage of a fire downtown, a humorous talk show... he couldn't really settle on anything. He didn't have to, though.
Chen didn't notice when he drifted off, but he woke up just before the sun came up, and it was as good a time as any. He hung the Little Dragon charm around his neck and stalked out of the quiet room. He had a taxi to catch.
*o*o*o*o*
Chen's interview skills weren't the best, but the questions that prospective employers offered were straightforward enough. And not always flattering.
"So, it says here you're a MechWarrior," an older man said at the mercenary hall that morning, him and Chen seated at a smooth wooden table. He frowned at the data tablet in his hand. "But you don't have a 'Mech? Not even a scout?"
Chen shook his head. "I plan to offer my other skills to a company to save up for a BattleMech. Until then -"
"Don't got time for that," the man snapped, waving a hand. "C'mon, kiddo, I have contracts to finish and I need 'Mech boots on the ground ASAP. And I've got more than enough troopers for infantry backup."
Chen shifted uneasily in his seat. "I assure you, I can pilot a scout 'Mech well, and they're the cheapest class. Maybe a year -"
"You either ain't listenin', or think I'm a damn fool," the man cut in. "Watson's Rangers is a company of action! Wherever there's battle, we're there and ready! I need MechWarriors who can deliver." He jabbed a thick finger down on the table. "Sorry, kid, but I don't think this is gonna work."
Chen bowed his head. "I understand."
The CO of Watson's Rangers wasn't the only one to voice his or her impatience for a dispossessed MechWarrior. The Blue Stingers didn't want him, either, even though they had simpods where Chen could maintain his skills while saving up for a 'Mech. And the CO of Becky's Blasters actually laughed out loud and giggled for thirty seconds straight when Chen made his pitch.
"I-I'm sorry, mister Yeung," the young woman said with tears streaming down her face. She hid more chuckling behind her gloved hand. "You're like a chef with no hands, or a deaf musician, or -"
"Beethoven was deaf," Chen said, his patience running thin. "And he composed late into his life."
The CO, Becky, tossed her red-dyed ponytail. "No can do, sorry. I'm my own best strategist, and I have rock-solid troopers filling my APCs. I need 'Mechs real bad." She smiled. "I mean, what did you expect? MechWarriors are always in demand, but so are their mounts. Anyone can pick up a gun and learn to shoot and fight with a platoon. But BattleMechs? Hot dog! That's the real jackpot."
Chen sighed and stood. "I understand. Thank you for your time, Becky." He offered his hand.
Becky stood and shook it. "Yeah, sure. Have a nice day."
Even after a quick lunch at a diner four floors down, Chen felt drained and leaden. I should've known, he thought, taking the last bite of his deli sandwich. Like they say, life is cheap, but BattleMechs aren't. Even if I've got CCAF and Death Commando experience under my belt, I'm still just one guy, and BattleMechs... well... we all know about that.
Chen brushed a few crumbs off his shirt and jostled the Little Dragon charm. He paused. What would Mei think? Or his other lancemates, his old CO, the tough-as-nails instructors back on Sian who molded him into a fighter? The Capellan spirit didn't die so easily. No, not even in the face of rejection or mockery! Never!
I can do this, Mei.
And he ran right into more rejections.
"Don't got time for a dispossessed asshole, boyo," the gruff commander of Hell's Cavalry said dismissively. "Go get yerself a mount or find a new career, you read me?"
"Many apologies, good sir, but I have need to complete my BattleMech lance," the CO of Gentleman's Squad said. "Might I suggest you approach an infantry-heavy unit, or find employment at a war college as an instructor?"
Retire to teach? No way! Chen didn't come all this way to become a teacher at age 29. This was the time to fight! He had the utmost respect for his instructors back at Sian, but that wasn't where he was headed. But where he was headed, at this rate, was a total unknown. And he was running out of options.
Six more mercenary units flatly turned him down with various levels of tact or lack thereof, and Chen was about to kick over a trash can in fury when he found an ad for another unit. He calmed his nerves and approached the CO in the interview room.
"Jackson's Werewolves is always keeping an eye out for talent," the commander, Samesh Jackson, said, hands folded on the table. He had his dark, thick hair cut short, gold stud earrings, and a camo-colored vest over his well-muscled chest. "What talent can you offer me, mister..." He checked his data tablet. "Chen Yeung?"
"Other than my skills?" Chen asked. "I like to think that my resume speaks for itself. But I can be flexible in a unit, part of my Death Commando training. I can serve however you would need. I can do language interpretation, serve with a squad, give tactical advice if needed, and offer insight to the Capellan Confederation, my home."
"You'd sell out your old home?"
"I mean..." Chen froze, unsure where he was going with this. He was a freelancer now, bound to no nation or flag. But could he turn against the Confederation? He might have to. "Whether we fight with or against House Liao, I can help," Chen finished.
Samesh nodded. "Gotcha. That makes sense. Look, I'm from the Dieron Military District in Kurita space. Mom moved from the Free Worlds League, Dad was a techie on Telos IV. Mom was Indian, and wanted a new life in Kurita space 'cause the Free Worlds League is batshit insane. Dad was pretty down-to-earth, aside from his work, but he loved her. And he died when mercs raided the base and blew up half the place."
Chen lowered his gaze. "I see."
"Yeah. You'd think I'd learn to hate mercenaries," Samesh said. "But no. It's a wild universe out there, and everyone's just trying to make a paycheck or protect their honor. I had military skills, and I know how to turn any fucked-up situation to my advantage. I go where the victory is. See where I'm going with this?"
Chen caught on. "Right. You're adaptable and pragmatic. Survival comes before pride or idealism."
"Okay, so you get me," Samesh said, his tone warming. "Good man. Look, even if you're dispossessed, I can use you. Death Commando training? Who're the idiots who turned their noses up at that?" Samesh glared around the room, as though using X-ray vision to stare down the other employers. "And nine years in the CCAF? They don't mess around. Besides, you've got more skills to round things out. Good, 'cause I will take nearly any job of any kind. What kind of language skills you got, Chen?"
Chen stiffened his back. "Mandarin is my native language, but I'm proficient in English, as you can tell by now. And I'm conversant in Russian."
Samesh nodded. "Right. What if an employer made me an offer in Russian? What d'you say?"
Chen cleared his throat. "YA budu vesti peregovory ot imeni moikh tovarishchey. Kakoye predlozheniye vy sdelayete?"
Samesh clapped his hands together. "Great. I assume you were offering to handle negotiations?"
"Correct. You understood me?"
"Well..." Samesh shrugged. "It fits the context. And I know a little Russian. But I'll let you handle that business." He checked out the tablet again. "So, you'd save up cash for a BattleMech while serving me in other ways?"
"Yes," Chen said, grateful that someone finally didn't have an issue with that. "I promise, I will purchase a 'Mech as soon as I can and pilot it. Even if I only can afford a Wasp or Stinger."
"Whoa, whoa." Samesh waved a hand. "Don't start like that. I need you piloting something comfortable for you, something the Werewolves need. What kind of 'Mechs did you pilot before?"
"Mainly the Vindicator," Chen said. "A CCAF staple. But I did spend time in a Grasshopper, a Phoenix Hawk, and a Quickdraw. My old regiment was flexible that way. We all had experience in various chassis."
"So, medium to heavy," Samesh concluded. "Right. Chen, I'm sure I can use you in a 45- to 60-ton 'Mech, or maybe something heavier later on, like a Warhammer if we can find one."
Chen blinked. "A Warhammer? For me?"
Samesh slapped the table with a hand and shook his head, grinning. "Get it through your thick skull, Chen! I like you! Ain't every day someone with your skills and experience comes along. And you're humble, and play to your strengths. I need more level-headed chaps like you in my unit."
"You're the first person I met all day who was glad to see me," Chen said with a self-depreciating smile.
"Been facing rejection all day?"
"I have."
"Well, no more." Samesh offered a hand, encased in a black leather fingerless glove. "I'm offerin' you a spot in my unit."
Chen hesitated for only a split second before he shook Samesh's hand. "I'll take it. Thank you."
"Welcome to Jackson's Werewolves," Samesh declared. He snapped his fingers. "Right. Lots of logistic shit to cover. Get you to meet everyone, integrate you into the unit, get you some gear, everything."
"Do you have your own DropShip?" Chen asked. "Will we leave Outeach soon?"
"Whoa, slow down," Samesh said, gesturing with both hands. "I can't afford no DropShip. We threw down a load of cash for new, high-tech combat vehicles to escort our heavy APCs into a combat zone. Got myself a lance of Manticore tanks. Ever seen one?"
"A few."
"Good. I've got another lance of mixed Goblin and Bulldog tanks, plus some Warrior choppers. And my incomplete 'Mech lance."
Chen nodded. "I understand. Thank you again."
"You ain't gonna regret this, mister Yeung." Samesh stood and spread his arms wide. "You're a Werewolf now, with us. You'll soon learn what that really means."