A/N: Yeah... I've definitely become obsessed. I happen to love the Clans though, and dislike how (at least in my experience) they get dismissed in the discussions of cultures and interactions by some fans because of their military focus.
For once, though, I've managed to write a Battletech piece that wasn't based on my group's roleplaying games... btw, I hate my fiance and his occasionally stupid ideas.
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Summary: If the Clans really were all work and no play... then some poor Draconis Combine clerk wouldn't have to deal with the paperwork.
Warnings: Mild sexual content...
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Customer Service(ing)
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The Clans are essentially socialist, at least within the boundaries of individual Clans. There is no such thing as personal property - it all belongs to the Clan. The lower castes - technician, laborer, scientist, even merchant - are given an allotment of the Clan's resources based on the quality and quantity of their work.
Warriors simply requisition everything they want, for any reason.
And some poor laborer caste grunt has to process all the paperwork.
Ashida Nori was a sinewy, energetic man, with lustrous strawberry-blond hair, grey eyes, who usually had a sardonic smile that hid his thoughts in traditional Japanese style. (He'd be damned before he allowed these Clan scum to strip him of his family name.) Today he wore a pink shirt and a necktie, mostly because he knew it would make his supervisor twitch, but the woman wouldn't do anything about it unless some Warrior caste egomaniac came down here and took offense.
Before his home had been taken, first by the Smoke Jaguars, then by the Ghost Bears, Nori had been an inventory clerk for the local distribution warehouse for Amazon dot Com. His skill at that job had landed him the "honor" of processing requisition forms from the garrison and making sure the warriors got whatever they needed.
Right now, Nori's sardonic smirk was nowhere to be seen as he glared at the screen.
It would have been nice if he could have found some reason to reject the form, but it was filled out to the exact requirements. It even had the Warrior's codex number on it.
Irene-san was a woman with clear green eyes, bushy light-brown hair and enough bulk that no one questioned her claim to be the third generation descendant of an elemental who'd washed out of training into the laborer caste. She was one broken nose away from being passably attractive. She was Nori's supervisor. She was also suddenly leaning over his shoulder.
"Problem?" she growled.
Speechless in his outrage, Nori only gestured at the screen.
His supervisor read over the form, scanning it expertly. "Everything seems to be in order," she concluded. "I suggest you get to it."
Nori found his voice. "And where am I supposed to find all this crap? None of it's in the base storerooms."
Irene-san rolled her eyes and subtly flexed her muscles. Nori cowered away from her. "The same way you fill any other requisition for material not found in the storerooms - take this form to locations where these things can be purchased and get them. No different than art supplies."
Nori squeaked in outrage.
18.28 meters of strong hemp rope
Four, 1.52 meter lengths of 1/2 centimeter diameter steel cord
Stainless steel padlock
70.2 centimeter length of 2.5 cm link chain
Grey eyes glared at the display of ropes at the hardware store. He'd never bothered to know (or care) that there were so many different types of rope and chain before. The warrior had been very specific though on what he (or she) had wanted, and so he was stuck glaring at the shelves until he found just the right thing.
"Can I help you?"
Nori looked over to the man. He was wearing the standard orange coveralls that were the uniform for this store, looking at the customer with a mildly helpful, but otherwise completely blank, expression.
Politeness had been drilled into Nori since he was born, so none of his anger or embarrassment showed as he answered. "Hai. I am looking for two point five centimeter chain, at least seventy centimeters long."
"I see," Nori could see the employee blink in mild surprise at the specificity of the request. He scanned the shelves himself. "I'm sorry. We don't seem to have that size in stock at the moment. Would you like me to put in an order for it?"
"No. I'll check out now."
The other man smiled pleasantly. "Of course sir. Right this way."
Nori went through three more hardware stores before he found the right size chain. It was too long, but he figured he could include a set of bolt cutters with the stuff and the warriors could cut it down to size themselves.
15th century European longsword replica, sharpened
Leather Swordsman Vambraces
Leather Swordsman Grieves
Two woolen tunics, size XXXXL
Two pairs of woolen pants, 127 cm waist / 111 cm length
He slammed, cursing, through the door of yet another cutlery shop that advertised the sale of ancient Terran weapons. So far he'd been to three and not found the exact sword he'd been instructed to get. Katana, wakizashi, and other proper Japanese weapons certainly, but none that sold European weapons of any sort. This place had been suggested to him by the last shop he'd been in.
Of course it had been across town and practically hidden behind a specialty clothing store selling recycled hippy clothing. Shameful.
Immediately he stopped cursing. This did seem to be the place.
The man behind the glass counter, racks of weapons displayed behind him, looked up from whatever he'd been reading on his noteputer. "Can I help you?"
The phrase was only polite, but Nori thought that if he heard it one more time today, he'd scream. He answered, though, without twitching. "I'm looking for a for a fifteenth century longsword, from the Terran province of Europe."
The shopkeeper turned his dark brown eyes to the wall behind him. "We've got several. What kind of sword did you want?"
Nori only stared at him blankly.
Glancing back at his customer, then examining the wall, he took down a large sword that to Nori's eyes didn't look too different from every other sword on the wall. "This is a fifteenth century Scottish claymore. It's been forged in the traditional style - perfect for reenacting, especially if your group insists on historical accuracy."
"Has it been sharpened?"
"It can be..." The shopkeeper's answer was a hesitant.
"I'll take it."
The shopkeeper grinned and Nori knew he'd be paying much more than he should have been for the the item. He didn't care. This was a Warrior's requisition, and the cost would be coming out of whatever budget the Ghost Bears maintained for such things. He turned to go.
The shopkeeper called out to his back. "Do you need a costume to go with that, or do you already have one?"
Leather single-tail whip, approximately 2.5 meters long
Riding crop
It took some work finding a tack shop. He finally found it practically hidden above a store selling raw leather for craft projects and leather clothing.
The proprietor looked bored. When Nori told her what he needed, she silently pointed to a wall with whips of every description hanging on the wall, neatly coiled.
Randomly he picked out a riding crop, then started uncoiling bullwhips to measure them.
"Can I help you?" Nori twitched violently as another employee snuck up on him for the sole reason of embarrassing him.
Still, politeness had been drilled into him from birth, and he would be damned if he would allow these Clanners and their psychological tortures to make him abandon that. He was a citizen of the Draconis Combine, not some Davion lout. He showed him the form.
He swore he could see the employee snicker slightly and his vision blurred in anger and embarrassment.
"Right here." The taller man reached over and picked out one of the whips.
St Andrew's cross, preferably metal.
Medical grade silicon dildo, seventeen centimeters long, 7.5 centimeters in diameter, with a flared base
Leather or rubber harness, 127 cm waist
Water based body lubricant
Nori took care of finding the St Andrew's cross by the expedient measure of purchasing a pair of steel I-beams and dropping them off at the garrison's repair bay, telling the laborers there that they needed to be cut and welded together. They'd nodded at him with a disturbing lack of embarrassment and set to work measuring the pieces and preparing an arc-welder.
He stoically stomped into the last shop he was going to be visiting that day, glared strait ahead and refused to look at the artistically displayed merchandise on the shelves. Without allowing the proprietor a chance to say "Can I help you?" he shoved the form in her face, pointed at the offending objects on the list, and growled out, "Those."
The woman took the form and examined it for several minutes, then examined Nori. "I'll get those right away for you, sir."
She put it down on the counter and went into the back room.
The minutes ticked by, and Nori glared at the back wall, trying not to let his face heat up in embarrassment, or his eyes wander in curiosity. What was taking her so long? He shook his head and glared down at the counter, only to hurriedly bring his eyes back up when they fell on the contents of the glass case he was leaning on. He barely kept himself from leaping away from the case as though it contained a live, venomous snake.
"Here." The woman finally returned.
Nori refused to look at the items as they were rung up and placed in bags. He marched away, ignoring the curious looks he imagined the sex shop's logo on the bag was attracting.
Requested by: Star Commander Liboria Vong
Date: July 18, 3067
The next day, Nori cautiously sat down in his uncomfortable chair and booted up the computer to sort through the day's requisitions. Feeling the need to simply disappear into the background, he'd worn a dark blue shirt (but still had the necktie). He fervently hoped that there wouldn't be another one like yesterday's in there.
He typed in his assigned password, blinking sleepily.
All traces of sleep disappeared when the computer made a rude noise and succinctly informed him that his password had been rejected. He cursed, loudly.
Irene-san wandered over. "What has got you so upset, Nori?" Despite the fact that he'd long since stopped expecting either the polite use of his family name or the traditional honorific, being so casually addressed still made him flinch. Ruthlessly he suppressed his reaction.
"My computer won't let me log in, Irene-san."
She wandered over, leaning her bulk over his desk. She tried his password. Then used her own and looked up Nori's status. "Looks like you have been transfered. Apparently Star Commander Liboria Vong and Point Commander Aurora were impressed with your performance yesterday and had you transfered their Star as quartermaster." She tapped a few more keys. "Congratulations, your grade has been increased as well."
Horror flooded through him at the prospect. He'd be working for the person who'd given him that embarrassing assignment? He may have to deal with that sort of request again? He wondered if this would be an appropriate circumstance under which to perform seppuku.
Probably not.
For her part Irene-san snickered when he sat heavily on his chair and stoically banged his head against the desk several times.
When he was done, Irene-san only told him blandly, "You are required to report to your new post at oh-seven-hundred tomorrow. Take the rest of today off." She started to walk away.
"Irene-san." She stopped and looked back at him. To his own ears he had sounded unaccountably exhausted. "Just answer one thing, please?"
"Aff."
He sighed. He wasn't certain he truly wanted to know. "I figured out what everything but the steel cord was for..." The chain had confused him, until he'd walked by a jewelry display and seen exactly how long seventy centimeters was - long enough to go around someone's neck. The four lengths of cord continued to confuse him though. Irene-san waited for him to continue, and inwardly he cursed these Clanners' bluntness. "Do you know?"
"Aff." She smirked at him and Nori knew, just knew, he was going to hate the answer. "The rope is just for decoration - have you ever considered what sort of restraints you would have to use to play bondage games with an Elemental?"
Kami-sama, he thoroughly hated the Clans.
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End