Author's note: This is a work of fiction, which means that I'll be playing about with the origin of some characters. This work of fiction itself may not be in line with the actual game storyline. My apologies if I do run out of line, and do pop a friendly review about it so I can attempt to remedy the error.
Black Knight Legion Headquarters
Harlech, Outreach
25th April 3063
Colonel Lawhorn sat quietly in his office, smoking a cigarette, while leafing through the folders which lay in front of him on his mahogany desk. The desk was empty save for the folders, a telephone and some stationery. He tossed the one he was just reading into a half-full box marked "Out!" on the floor next to him, shaking his head. He opened the very last folder and thumbed through the first few title pages to look for the page which was more interesting to him. Just then his desk telephone rang. He let it buzz twice before he picked it up, still looking through the page.
"Lawhorn."
"Sir, next applicant's finally here. Want to meet him?"
"Bring him in."
Lawhorn replaced the phone on its cradle, and resumed his reading. Shortly afterward a sharp rap sounded on his door.
Lawhorn stubbed out his cigarette and left it in his cigarette tray. Settling himself into a better position, he then called out curtly, "Come in."
A stout and balding man walked in, sharply saluting the colonel. Lawhorn saluted back. The man then adopted a casual stand in front of the colonel. There wasn't a chair for him to sit in, anyway, which was what the colonel arranged for. The man cleared his throat and spoke first.
"Sergeant Eric McLair reporting. Sorry for being late sir. The … umm …. rain held me up."
Lawhorn smiled cynically. This man was a joker. He looked at the beautiful summer day outside. He decided to ignore the jibe.
"I've heard of you, McLair. You've got a pretty damn good record, but you'll have to can that wise-cracking attitude if you want to be a lance leader."
Eric McLair squirmed nervously, but it seemed a little artificial to Lawhorn, which made him smile more.
"No problem about that, sir. Just thought a few jokes would help to lighten up the situation."
"All right, you've got an idea of the situation now?"
"Yes sir. Lieutenant Archer was killed in the fighting on Calderon IV, leaving a vacancy in the Legion for a lance leader. I'm here to apply for that post, sir."
"Okay. Good enough. Striker Lance needs a new lance leader. Radcliffe's a reasonably good Mechwarrior but he's a bit too inexperienced to be a leader yet. Isabel is a pretty new addition, replacing Mechwarrior Larry who was incapacitated. I can't even get a third lancemate yet, I've yet to find a Mechwarrior to fill that vacancy." The colonel leaned forward, looking straight at Eric.
"All in all, a tough lance to build up again. You're starting pretty much from scratch."
"Leave it to me, sir. I'll get these riff-raffs into shape in no time. Just give me the chance," Eric claimed proudly.
The colonel nodded his head slightly, smiling at Eric's eagerness.
"I'll give it to you, Eric, but don't let it get to your head. We're short on good officers. Most of the new applicants are just too rigid and rule-abiding. I need fresh blood, lance leaders that know how, and when, to follow the rules. You've proven your versatility on Calderon IV, surviving the final rearguard action before we lifted off-planet."
Lawhorn reclined back, taking a good look at Eric. Eric seemed ecstatic at his promotion, his hands twitching behind his back.
"We lost a lot of good men on Calderon IV, Eric. Good men and Mechs. I can only give you light Mechs now, since Striker Lance is now to be just a recon lance. But if you do fulfill your promise and get your lance in tiptop shape, I'll consider bumping you all up to a medium lance. Got it …… Lieutenant?"
Eric nodded, grinning widely at the mention of his promotion. "You got it, Colonel!"