Sigma Mercenaries 0001R: Initial Public Offering REVISED

by CSS Stravag

Sigma Mercenaries Mainline story beginning, REVISED EDITION. When an unknown train lands on the vegetable garden of an American Militiaman, and the happenings in the train are revealed to be wildly messed up, four Americans swing into action to save lives and bring order to chaos. Along the way, they will meet a very odd and diverse cast of peeps from all over Existence.. (Rated M)

10. The New Dynamic

(Chapter 10: The New Dynamic)

(26 March, Magi Year 14408 / Year SL 8838, 0745 Hours Local Time)
(Hess' Quarters, Administration Building 4th floor, Base Boarhound, Terra 232)
(Day 9 of Campaign)

It was a difficult decision.

In the days since his arrival on Terra 232, Hess had quickly come to love the Remington ACR for its combination of nasty on-target lethality, weight saving construction, full-auto sex appeal, and large ammo cap for lower weight. It was also a testament to the Security Team that they also carried the ACR, and so far everyone in the Secret Service was getting along with it.

On the other hand, the demonstration of the prior day was ample evidence that while an assault rifle was a good choice for general purposes, Hess could make 'em scream with a DMR (1) and wasn't all that bad with a sub-machinegun. Hence, he had turned in his ACR and drawn one of the M25 rifles from yesterday to use as a duty weapon going forward. After all, the ability to punch the portrait off a quarter at 200+ yards was a rather valuable skillset in this corner of Existence…

The first step of this process was to remove the Holographic Sight from his ACR — he had every intention of using it as a backup sight on the M25 using an offset mounting rail. The ACR would go back into storage in ScrapNet, to be drawn by a future Sigma trooper, or so Hess thought. In reality, Virtue recorded the serial of the rifle and intended that should it be drawn again, it would be set aside for historical purposes. As to the primary scope on the M25, Hess had an Ironon Weapons 8x-40x ART scope attached to the rifle, not the best on the market, but definitely enough to reach out and count nosehairs on a tango at 200 yards before he hammered the enemy flat.

The second step of the process was removing the magazines and pouches from his armor. In this case, it was fairly simple to remove and set aside the 8-in-line pouch for STANAG magazines, and even easier to remove the pouch from his left leg platform that held two extra magazines. These he replaced with two mag pouches designed for the AR-10 and M14 platforms, the left chest pouch was also a Tuff-products 8-in-line pouch, and the left leg platform pouch was a mil-spec 2-magazine stacked shingle type, giving him 10 magazines on person (200 rounds).

The 8-in-line pouches he loaded with 7.62x51 match-grade ammunition, designed specifically to maximize the accuracy of the rifle it was in. The leg pouch he loaded with 7.62x51 armor-piercing ammunition, on the necessity of punching through hardened targets or other barriers that would resist an OTM (2) round. The ballistics of the AP rounds were decidedly different from the match-grade rounds, but the difference was not so great that at 300-400 feet he could not chop a man's heart out through their body armor. His rifle received a full magazine of the match-grade rounds, which he would need for sighting in, though he did not load it in yet — sight assembly came before that.

He was not done with his armor, though. Hess had long operated for the Militia with two rifles — effectively, two primary weapons — plus a shotgun and a pistol. The shotgun was out, but the pistol remained, leaving him technically down one primary gun. An ACR and a couple mags would weigh too much and be effectively redundant to the M25, so Hess decided cutting the difference was the way to go: a sub-machinegun for close-quarters work. The UMP40 was attached to his body armor by way of a Weapon Catch on his right side, back behind his Y-axis centerline, to keep it out of the way in normal operation but handy enough if needed as a backup. A one-point sling would keep it manageable if he had to deploy it. On the UMP40, Hess attached another holographic sight to make his close-quarters sight actions consistent across the board.

Magazines for the backup weapon were a bit of a conundrum, until Hess stood up and accidentally dug his left hip into the table. That simple inadvertent contact brought to mind the mostly-unused MOLLE space under his left arm, and a MOLLE product that he rarely even thought about when he found advertisements for it in the Cheaper Than Dirt sales catalogs back home. "Virtue, do you have a purchase line for MOLLE rotation panels?"

"Do you need 45-degree or 90-degree rotation panels?" she asked.

"90-degree panels, large enough to fit a pair of double UMP magazine pouches."

"So you will need a rotator panel with four vertical spaces and five horizontal spaces. Order placed, all gear is Desert Tan colored and UV treated to avoid fading or UV breakdown."

"Nice," Hess said as he headed toward the door with the now-unused ACR in hand to turn in.

"Turning in the ACR, sir?" Erin asked after she fell in behind him.

"Indeed, switched over to the M25 for general purpose now," Hess said. "And I'll be carrying a UMP40 for backup in close."

"Both? Ouch, that would be heavy!"

"Nothing new to me," Hess said before he approached the newly-installed ScrapNet terminal on the 4th floor. Two pouches and a redirector panel came out of the unit, the ACR went in, and Hess closed it up to allow Virtue to store the ACR.

"So, I guess probably ten magazines 7.62, four magazines UMP40, five magazines pistol?" Erin asked. Sigma One simply nodded. "Walking wall of firepower."

"In defensive engagement situations, we all will need to carry more munitions than even that. One of the fastest ways to get dead is to carry a light ammo load when facing a large and pissed-off OpFor," Hess said as he walked the return path to his apartment. "Follow me," Hess waved her into the apartment and to the table where he had his armor laid out for modification. "UMP on a weapons catch, right rear, magazines left under my arm." Hess attached the MOLLE redirection panel, then attached the magazine pouch to the redirect panel to allow the mags to be pulled horizontally.

"I still think it is nuts, but I see it working." Erin hesitated while Hess picked up his armor and shrugged into it — all 60 pounds of it. "More firepower than some action heroes."

"Action heroes do it on the screen for the money. We do it on the battlefield for the people of the Protectorate." Hess picked up the M25 and slipped into the sling. "Ready to go. Time to hit the range and make sure everything is sighted in."

-x-x-x-

(26 March, Magi Year 14408 / Year SL 8838, 0815 Hours Local Time)
(Barracks A-A-4, Base Boarhound, Terra 232)
(Day 9 of Campaign)

"This is it!" Akira said after the commo terminal in the barracks building beeped. "My last ditch to get that fat bastard overruled and booted!"

Amado simply shook his head in disdain, still reading through the job guides that Clint Jamieson had written up for the Protectorate. While Amado did not want to do military as a career, he wasn't afraid of doing civilian or support jobs — so far, the Protectorate looked to be paying well, and this world was not going to be a socialist pigeonhole so he needed a decent-paying job going forward. Even if Akira was trying to subvert the Protectorate, Amado did realize that he still had to take care of his own needs, so…

"What manner of communications did you run?" Amado asked offhand while reading up on proposed manufacturing jobs..

"I sent a message to the Office of Protectorate Regulation on Hess' conduct and clear law-breaking. This should be notice of their official judgment."

"Did you miss where the Will Transcendent declared the Protectorate completely outside Star League Law?" Amado asked bluntly.

"Doesn't matter, an Executor can't deny the Star League its own just Dominion." Akira stepped up to the communications terminal and inserted his Multimage Codex to clear himself for accessing the message.

"1 message received from Protectorate Affairs Office, Multimage Administration Group. Voice Only," the terminal reported.

"Play message," Akira said with some smug satisfaction to voice.

The beginning of the recording popped, an electronic sound that told Akira their office needed a replacement microphone system. "Good evening, Akira Inoue. I am Star Colonel Gabrielle, Protectorate Affairs Liaison Officer assigned to the Protectorate of Sigma. I would like to thank you for submitting a list of concerns on the Protectorate of Sigma and their actions thus far. Before I get into details, though, I must inform you that this message is the only response you will receive on this matter — in light of the status of the Protectorate, and given your list of complaints, I have elected to not forward these complaints to the Office of the Inspectorate, citing special and exigent policies put in place for Sigma."

"No! NO! DAMNIT!" Akira shouted pointlessly at the terminal.

"I also advise you not to attempt to push the matter directly to the Inspectorate — as I will explain, this is not a path you want to take."

"BULLSHIT!" Akira shouted.

The recording continued on. "Your cited complaints with the conduct of the Protectorate are null and void because the Protectorate is not a signatory of the Star League Charter, and the Protectorate Chief has already vehemently declared he will not sign onto that 'printed piece of toilet paper' in his words. Your understanding of Star League law is technically correct, but keep in mind that Star League law is not the overriding law in a nation that does not recognize it as controlling."

"BULLSHIT! NO! NO!" he wailed at the prerecorded message.

"Additionally, while the Multimage Star Empire is a signatory to the Star League, a Protectorate formed under the Magi is not automatically counted in that maligned tribe. And, as these things are counted, Magi law is considered sovereign in all circumstances whereby the Empress has ruled separately from the Star League Grand Council. Hence, Magi Touman Operational Finding 4459607 is in effect by law, permitting any Magi force to disable, enter and clear any Interdimensional Jumper Train found inside Magi territory."

"Damn it to Hell," Akira grumbled, now not so worked up as he was prior.

"Finally, your understanding of Star League Legal Precedence is not in line with legal requirements. While the Grand Council can legislate or judicate whatever they please, and to a degree such policies are legally enforceable in the signatory states or Empires, at no point is a Grand Council edict considered legally binding in any circumstance whereby an Executor has ruled against such policies, or preemptively defined policy bounds that prevent the Grand Council from ruling in such a fashion. As such, when the Grand Council is effectively castrated and butchered on live broadcast in pertaining to all affairs of the Protectorate of Sigma, the Judgment of the Executor wins in all particulars."

"Like Hell," Akira groused.

The Star Colonel's message continued on: "Additionally, there is a bit of a darwinistic self-preservation aspect to your attempting to force the Magi to operate against the Judgment of the Will Transcendent. Remember, the man who castrated the Grand Council's authority on live holovision is the same man who founded this Star Empire some 14 millennia ago, and who can literally erase a person from Existence at the background levels that common Magic cannot even operate on. There is no way in the nine planes of an ever-merciful Hell that we Magi would stand against the Old Emperor's orders on this one. And that leaves alone the consideration that most Magi soldiers and citizens consider Sigma One in the right completely or far more than the Star League on these matters."

"She has a point," Amado said from his bed, still flipping through job literature on his tablet.

"In closing, I will explain why I quashed this series of complaints, rather than forward it on to the Inspectorate. Your complaints are a mirror of a series of complaints already being inspected, issued by none other than Star League Senator Mandy Glivenne. Here in two weeks, the Inspectorate will come to the exact same conclusions I just gave you, and then the Inspectorate General will issue a writ of no contest to the Senator, as well as a bill for some 130,000 C-bills for wasting the Inspectorate's time. I am burying your complaints to save you the 65 years Term of Bond necessary to pay that debt back, given it is a fair estimate that you don't have that 130 grand in your pocket right now."

"She has a point again," Amado said.

The voice in the recording sighed. "As I said, it is your option if you want to forward the request to the Office of the Inspectorate General, but I highly recommend you simply bury this line of complaint. It's not worth your time, and judging by your codex records, you're lucky at this point to have the time to give. If you find yourself so disaffected by the Protectorate that you cannot stomach living within, you need only request from one of the Magi infantrymen an extraction to be returned home, and it shall be done. This is Star Colonel Gabrielle, signing off."

"Cock-blocked by a lady with such a hot voice," Amado said, still paging through job information on his tablet.

"Some help you are," Akira said. "Help me figure out a way to sink the fat bastard."

"It's over, Akira, you have everyone worth talking about in Existence on his side," Amado said deadpan. "No matter how hard you grab your crotch and wish for it to be different, you have already lost. Any time you want to start acting like you understand that you've already lost, I'd welcome it."

"I have not lost! This travesty can't go forward or it will end badly! For everyone! Including you and me!" Akira wailed.

"Yeah, sure, heard that one before," Amado said. "Look, you want to keep railing against him, fine, have at it. I'm going to sign up for an industrial position when they come available. Until then, I'm done with this shit. Find someone else to embarrass themselves while you impotently challenge the Protectorate."

-x-x-x-

(26 March, Magi Year 14408 / Year SL 8838, 0830 Hours Local Time)
(Medical Office, Administration Building first floor, Base Boarhound, Terra 232)
(Day 9 of Campaign)

"A mutiny of moms-to-be," Erin said in summary of the report from the MedTechs.

"Good God, this has the propensity to get nasty fast," Hess said, looking at the security camera footage of the medical office.

"How many are in there?" Erin asked.

"Eleven. Six human, two elven, one sylph, one nymph, one tiger."

"The Tiger? Natalya?" Hess asked, knowing the name from a comment dropped offhand by Virtue as to the presence of a Tiger in a recent group of inductees.

"The same," MedTech Christy said.

"Well, fuck," Hess groused. "I'm not seeing any way to sidestep this issue, are you guys?" Sigma One asked his Secret Service Officer, Sigma Four, and the two MedTechs.

"Nope, no dodge that I know of," Victoria Williams said.

"Geh," Hess deflated. "Well, on that note, I guess we need to hash this one out proper and official. Victoria, Erin, on me."

"Hai!" Erin half-shouted.

Even with a clear objective in mind, Hess hesitated to trip the door latch for several seconds. After he forced himself to commit to the objective, though, he put a game face on before he thumbed open the door.

Inside, a lively conversation came to a stop as heads turned toward the door. "Holy crap, he did come! I told you!" Yolei Z. half-shouted.

"Good," Ariana F. said. "Now we get to speak with someone who can make an actual decision," she continued.

"If a decision needs to be made, it will be made," Hess said as he dragged a stool out from under one of the beds by foot. After he was seated, he flexed his back to relieve the tension in it from wearing 75 pounds of combat gear. "Before I set policy, though, I need to know what exactly the topic de rigeur is."

"We have been ordered out of our training units on Maternity Leave. Some of us don't want to be on leave at all, the rest of us want to know what it's going to take to get back in after we've had our children. Or cub, in Natalia's case."

"Thank you," the Tiger in the group said calmly.

"So, two issues, two answers," Hess said. "First, on the matter of being on leave required, this is for both your safety and for the children you bear, or cub in that specific case," Erich nodded to the Tigress in the room. "In the course of your training, if you were to injure yourself in the wrong way, you could very easily end up with a miscarriage or a miscarriage with extended injury or fatality to yourself. Killing yourself in the process of training, or killing your unborn child, not particularly good for anyone involved, would you not agree?"

"And if we didn't want the child to begin with?" Laticia X. asked sharply.

Hess tightened up for a moment, but relaxed. "If you absolutely must do so, I will not stop any person leaving the Protectorate for the purpose of an abortion. Keep in mind, though, the Magi policy of denying abortions except in cases where it must be done to protect the life of the mother exists for a reason, and that reason is slightly more than 2200 years away."

Several of the ladies in the room gasped, including both MedTechs and the Tigress. "We are that close to Ragnarok?" Ikuno O. asked.

"The exact kick-off date is still in flux, but present thinking amongst the Executors is early in the 16,600s," Hess said, given the information was somewhat circling courtesy of the Executors and was not classified.

"And people were beginning to believe it would never happen, Ragnarok," Arianna said in some small amount of shock.

Erich nodded the point; ten days prior, he had no inkling that Ragnarok was even an exigent reality, so he could understand the feeling. "Numbers are required to win the war Ragnarok. A small but empirical addition to that numbers game exists in each of you. Think hard about your moves going forward." Hess sighed. "I am a man who chases freedoms, and while I would not normally have a position on such an issue as abortion, the logic behind the Magi position in this case is infallible. If elective abortion rates exist at ten percent in civilized territories, that results in a decrease of eleven births per 1000 child-bearing-age ladies per year. The decrease is empirical: across a million persons, that is 11000 births per year, with an assumed 30,000 drop for that generation, so the next generation is down that many persons. Assume a fifty-fifty split for females, or 15000, and again apply the ten percent, so you're talking 1545 per year, again assuming a net average of 4600 or so that would never have been born just one generation down the line."

"Jesus," Keanna Leeson said. "I — I never thought about abortion in numbers like that."

"And that is just a ten percent elective abortion rate across a million people. Your second-generation casualties on a consistent ten percent low-pass is near a hundred thousand that would never have been born. And ten percent is chump change, a literal low-ball figure. In some inner-city enclaves on my homeworld, the elective rate is nearer 40 percent or 50 percent."

"Oh, wow," Ikuno said. "Omnicide before they are even born."

"Exactly," Hess said. "If Ragnarok is to be won by way of outnumbering the opposing force, Abortion becomes the way by which we lose by default. The numbers game can't be won that way."

"Not my war, not my problem," Laticia X. said.

"Like I said, I won't stop you from leaving, if you feel you absolutely must. On the other hand, there is nothing stopping you from turning the child over to a creche or adoption after your term is done," Hess said.

"Oh," Laticia groused, never having considered that angle — she didn't object to carrying the child to term, but she didn't want it for herself.

"So, that's policy number one: I will be directing Victoria to set up a daycare / creche / adoption service in the same model as the Magi services of the same purpose. No charge, no hassle, no questions asked. Suitable?" Hess asked the ladies.

"Yes sir," Chelsea T. said.

"So, second question, positions in the unit. First, maternity leave is just that — leave, not a dismissal from post. Until you sign a release from enlistment, you are still part of the unit. Follow?" Sigma one said gruffly.

"Easily, sir," Natalia answered his question.

"Officially, Maternity leave starts 90 days before due date and ends no less than 30 days after birth, when a MedTech releases you to duties. During that time, you will be considered reassigned to a Maternity Leave unit, and will likely be reassigned unless your CO specifically requests you back to that unit or you request a return to your prior unit. That means if you take leave from a fighter group, you go back into the aerospace profession. If you are maternity'd out from basic, you go back into basic until you are ready to move onto AIT."

"Paygrade, sir?" Yolei asked timidly.

"Your paygrade will remain unchanged while on leave. Consider it something of an employment benefit, it would be uncivil of me to use pay to discourage family aspirations."

"No job is worth selling your family downriver," Victoria said. "I made sure paygrades are unchanged during maternity leave. Also, training courses geared toward the pregnant ladies will be offered to further your skills."

"You really thought this through," Laticia admitted.

Hess nodded. "I watched more than a few careers in my company self-destruct from unofficial pressure from the top due to maternity leave requirements. One of those destroyed careers ended in a suicide. Not on my watch," Sigma One said. "This Protectorate is about the people, those who are here, those who shall be rescued, and those yet to be born. I'm not afraid to bury some profit in deference to families to come."

"But be smart about it," Victoria tacked on to the boss' ending comment. "If you don't want to go through the process of having children, either don't do the dance or invest in a contraceptive or relic to prevent pregnancy. If you don't mind the process but don't want to keep the coming rugrats, the creche service can work with that. If you are thumbs-up on both the process and the coming kids, again, the daycare / creche service will help keep you employed and your kids out of trouble."

-x-x-x-

(26 March, Magi Year 14408 / Year SL 8838, 0845 Hours Local Time)
(Mayville, west of Base Boarhound, Terra 232)
(Day 9 of Campaign)

"Ambassador One, this is Goalkeeper One. Confirm LZ is the 4-lane highway section due west of the center of town, how copy?" Peggy asked.

"Confirmed," Millie said by radio.

"Alright, time to make this happen," Katherine said. "Peggy, you watch for obstacles, I'll watch the touchdown area."

"Nothing in the area so far," Peggy said.

As the helo closed in on the LZ, the pilot and copilot caught sight of the Ambassador — easy enough, the red trenchcoat gave his position away at miles of distance. With him were the two assistant ambassadors (Millie and Meryl), the Mayor, and roughly six or seven more persons with a hand-drawn cart.

"Wait, is that a person on the cart?" Katherine asked.

"I think it is," Peggy said. "Medevac?"

"May be," Katherine said. After a moment's approach, she keyed up her radio. "Ambassador One, Goalkeeper, we have the LZ, be advised we have a pallet of goods to be broke down and offloaded for the town, do we have anything that needs to go back to Boarhound at this time?"

"Goalkeeper, we do have a medical evac to head back to Boarhound. Kid with a nasty infected cut on his left leg. Can you transport?" Meryl asked.

"Roger that," Katherine answered. She knew part of the negotiations yesterday involved medical support, including medevac, so this was a natural extension of that effort. "We are ready to conduct medevac once we have the cargo unloaded. Be advised, we're not set up to transport a hand-cart like that, when we land we will need to transfer the boy to a rescue basket."

"Got it," Meryl answered.

"Okay, the only obstacle we need to worry about is that oak tree on the left side of the LZ. Maybe angle the nose away from it?" Peggy said as Katherine began rotating the craft to land with the cargo door facing the town.

"Gear check," Katherine said.

"Gear shows down," Peggy answered. "Downward cameras are ready," Peggy changed two of the displays to show the downward-facing cameras for reference, which included laser rangefinding to the obstacle (ground) under the crosshairs.

"Okay, looks like a good spot," Katherine decided after they hovered over it. "Taking her down."

"Everything looks green, no new obstacles," Peggy said after a quick check of the vehicle's basic sensors.

"Twenty meters...ten meters, five," the helo rattled as the rear landing gear hit the ground first and the hydraulics compressed to their limit. "Down," she said after the nose gear hit the ground.

"Idle the rotors and lock them out, we'll help get things organized in back before we move out," Katherine said.

"Rotors are in idle, transmissions to neutral," Peggy said. "We're good to go."

Katherine was first out of her seat, followed by Peggy, and when back in the cargo hold they squeezed past the HMMVW assigned to Vash to the back cargo door. Peggy started unbuckling the lock chains on the vehicle and the cargo pallet while the pilot opened the door. In the five seconds that it took to drop the door, Peggy had the two left-side lock-chains pulled and was working on the straps for the cargo pallet.

"Ho! This is amazing!" Meryl said as she worked her way into the cargo hold. "How much can you put in one of these things?"

"Had three HMMVWs, fully loaded, stacked nose to tail in here with room for a fourth and accompanying infantry and supplies," Katherine said with some pride. "Raw lift internal is 15 tons, max lift internal and external is 30 tons."

"You could drop some serious relief supplies anywhere you needed to with that lift weight," Vash said.

"Yep, or a four-vehicle relief team, or two platoons of motorbike infantry," Peggy answered. "Or, like this, a pallet of civilian relief supplies and a HMMVW. Lots of things we can do with 15 tons of lift."

"Last strap is loose, you can move out the HMMVW," Katherine said. "The boss made sure you have appropriate gear in the back for your travels, and we can ferry more out wherever needed."

"Got it." Vash climbed in, fired up the HMMVW, and rolled it out slowly to make sure he was not running over any of the civilians that had come out to join the helo effort.

"Wounded kid?" Peggy asked as they wheeled the hand-cart up into the back of the semi.

"Can you help him?" A lady that was a bit too young to be his mother asked.

"We'll take him into the base to be looked at by the MedTechs." Katherine approached the cart with a rescue basket. Transferring the mostly-unconscious and feverish teen to the basket took four persons effort, including Vash, and another three persons to haul him forward in the chopper to where they could put the basket on a bench and lock it in place.

"Is he going to be all right?" the lady with the wounded kid asked.

"I'm not a medtech, ma'am," Peggy said by way of apology. "We'll do what we can."

Meryl, Millie, and the civilians had begun disassembling the supply stack, either hand-carrying it out of the chopper or loading it onto the hand-cart to be wheeled into town. In less than two minutes, 4 tons of goods had been pulled and removed from the helo, leaving only the Mayor, the Ambassador, the helo crew, and the two ladies in the bay.

"Thank you," the Mayor said formally to the helo pilots and the ambassadors. "After the Star League jumped ship, I swore life couldn't get any better without their sorry asses in the way. Now that the Protectorate is in here, though, things are looking and sounding a helluva lot better than even running indie."

"No doubt, Mayor," the twenty-something lady accompanying the wounded teen guy said. "Real security without the Star League overhead or depredations. Actual medical support, not that half-assed BS by the former Nurse. and maybe a complete return to civilization in the next year or so?"

"True," the Mayor said.

"Hoping for sooner rather than later," Katherine said. "Hate to shoo you guys out, but we have a medevac to do, so we need to be moving," she said.

"Yes, ma'am," Vash said tiredly as the group moved out the cargo bay and toward the HMMVW.

"Peggy, get her belted in and remain here with the basket. I'll get us underway," Katherine said. "Time to roll."

-x-x-x-

(26 March, Magi Year 14408 / Year SL 8838, 0900 Hours Local Time)
(Railhead Undercroft, Base Boarhound Administration Building, Terra 232)
(Day 9 of Campaign)

The order had come down from Clint at 0700: both Rail Guard teams were to be mustered in full combat gear and munitions at 0900 in the railhead.

The two teams did not disappoint.

Clint walked past the two groups, slowly, inspecting their uniforms, gear, weapons, and mostly their posture and expressions. These were troops that knew they were doing better than the average Mafiosi, but they also knew they had a lot to learn. Clint and Hess had demonstrated that more than once.

Most of all, these troops were determined to do the job — determined mostly to do the right job. This was a bitch of a job, but it had to be done, and Sigma had been asked to do it. The job meant blood, sweat, and tears, but it also meant a new life for everyone involved. That alone was what drove most of them.

But, between the two teams, one team stood out on technical merits, and one team stood out on personal merits. That confluence made the coming decision a bit difficult, but far from impossible. And while the technical team would theoretically have the advantage in the more hostile situation, Clint could not forget the ready requirement for diplomacy in most of the Train they had gone through.

Clint stopped roughly between the two groups as mustered. "No bullshitting in this house, so I will be blunt about this," Clint said. "I would like to see the entire unit go through some more directed training, but it is the music that dictates the speed of this dance party, not our whims."

"Sir," Megan said with a slight hint of dejection to voice.

"This is a case where, regardless of how much training you think you have, it is not enough." Clint said, his eyes ranging back and forth across the troops. "The four Militiamen, we moved fast and efficient through the trains because we have years of training on clearing and deliberate searches. The caveat, even we were scared minute to minute walking through the morass of the 521 Train. Do not doubt you're in for some rough times coming."

"Aye, sir," Sir Launcelot said, knowing well the coming stresses from his times in battle under King Arthur.

"That said, you men and women are all better trained and prepared for what must be done than the average joe, which puts you a step ahead of the game and a step in the right direction for getting this monumental clusterfuck fixed. And trust me, inside the bounds of this cluster, someone always gets fucked."

"Is this supposed to be inspirational?" Ikuno asked.

Clint chuckled. "Like I said, not here to dish any bullshit in this house, so be ready for it." After a moment of looking back and forth, Sigma Two sighed mightily. "Now, with the new problem dropped on us during the system test of the number two Rail Head Beacon, the plan has changed. I told you that today would be a run-off test between units to see who gets the honor of the first clear. As of right now, that test is scrapped."

There were a few gasps in the units. "We are both going in?" Sir Launcelot asked.

"Exactly. One unit will handle the 523 train, the other unit will handle the newcomers," Clint said. "It's game time for both teams."

"We stand ready, sir!" Megan said for her unit. "Where do you want us?"

"Two teams, two Trains. Interesting challenge," Clint said with a bit of a savage smile to his face. "To put who where?"

"Okay, that's kinda evil," Ikuno P. groused.

"Let him have his fun," Megan said. "It's an American thing."

"Well, I'll say this, there are two ways to look at this. From the technical side, there is a clear winner on who is and who is not the best. On the mental side, though, the match as to who goes to what train is far more definite." Clint looked directly to Element Leader Christenson. "Megan, your team has the mental aspect mostly handled, and that is what is needed most in these scenarios. For what we marched through, the Militia Team had relatively few shoot-outs, not because we didn't have to, but because we were able to diffuse a lot of these problems before they became violent."

"That was amazing, as well, sir," Olivia stated from the near edge of Launcelot's formation. "Where did you learn to talk your way into or out of so much?"

"It's an American hobby," Clint said. "In a land of 300 million people, you need to have hard and fast communication skills or you get flattened by the unruly mob."

"Gotcha," Olivia answered.

"And, under Megan's lead, most of those skills are present in the rest of the unit as well. It is an acquired thing; you'll need to work on the negotiation aspect, Sir Launcelot, but it's not hugely difficult to get a handle on. And that brings me to your unit, Launcelot du Lac, because where you go, the technical aspect will be more important. Because we Militia already extracted the sympathetic troupe from the 523 train, the remainder are going to be the hardasses, and hardasses like a good brawl or hide-and-seek session. So, you go through and do the final clean-out and verification, then once the train is cleared, we can send a crew through to disassemble, gut, and process the contents of the train. Follow?"

"With pleasure, sir," Sir Launcelot said.

"Megan, your team does the cleanout on the new arrival," Clint said. "Remember, try to talk them down and talk them out before putting a burst in their chests, follow? If they come quietly, so much the better."

"Aye, sir," Megan said.

"Virtue, remote control: jump the train to the holding area, then issue full door open commands to all doors on the train. Make sure all cars are in our space."

"Commands issued. 523 train doors opening now. New arrival train will jump and execute commands in 10 minutes," the Artificial Intelligence entity reported.

-x-x-x-

(26 March, Magi Year 14408 / Year SL 8838, 1000 Hours Local Time)
(METARgraphic Target Range Gun Cleaning Room, Basement Level 1, Base Boarhound Administration Building, Terra 232)
(Day 9 of Campaign)

"What do you think, boss?" Clint picked up the unit in question and set the buttstock down on the table.

"Good old M249. Few things say 'Go Bang Your Sister' faster than full-auto 5.56," Hess said before he drew back the bolt on his M25. Another three or four cycle tests using snap caps and he was satisfied that all was well in the world. Sigma One's next step was to insert his ready magazine and cycle it again, but this time he put the safety on and let it hang.

"We going in full cocked-and-locked?" Clint asked after a moment.

"Aye," Hess answered as he pulled, loaded, and armed the UMP40 he carried as a secondary. "You read the contract same as I did. These ladies have an OpFor hunting them. We need to make sure we are ready to drop some hostiles if we have to," Hess said before he yanked and released the slide on his XD Tactical .40. His last check was the barrel light on the pistol before he holstered and locked it down.

"Roger that." Clint fed a belt of 5.56 into his weapon, consisting of two 855A1 rounds, one 995M3 round (Magi-production armor-penetrating rounds), one E40A1 round (Magi-production explosive round), and one 856A1 round (tracer round), repeating every five rounds. The first belt on his weapon was a 300-round bag, designed to give him plenty of fight on the first go, if needed. A pull on the charging handle for his weapon and Clint's M249 was ready to go. He took the time to pump a round into the chamber of his 590A1 combat shotgun and chamber his sidearm, since battlefield conditions didn't always give a person time to cock and lock.

"Nine days into this, and it still feels a bit weird," Erich said candidly, tugging at his armor. "I suppose we will grow accustomed to this eventually."

"Ready to go?" Clint asked, to which Hess nodded. "Let's roll." The two Secret Service agents closed up on their protectees. They did not need to re-gear themselves, as they were going with ACR rifles and pistols, a standard load.

"We're ready, sir," Erin said.

"One thing, sir. ComStar reported that the area is not a Standard English or Standard Japanese language area," Toni said from her spot next to Clint (she was guarding him for the day). "We will want to use a Translation spell to make sure we are understood."

Clint nodded at the logic. "You know it?" Sigma Two asked.

Toni closed up and linked hands with Hess, Erin, and Clint. "Unseen Lore of Existence, Untold Wisdom of the Cosmos, unlock the knowledge of the innate and bestow Translate Languages," she chanted. "Done. Should last roughly 4 hours."

"Suppressors on your primaries, people," Sigma One ordered. After everyone had their 'cans' attached: "Virtue, send us," Hess requested.

-x-

(26 March, Magi Year 14408 / Year SL 8838, 1430 Hours Local Time)
(Rural Forest Area, South of Elven Kingdoms / North of Human Kingdoms, Planet Kestrel III, Dimension CS-51934334-2457)
(Day 9 of Campaign)

The token given to them by ComStar had been red for the two days since they put the contract in, which was disheartening but not unexpected. The Precentor of the HPG Complex had been rather blunt, most personal extraction contracts went unfulfilled, but word was getting around of a new mercenary unit that had done two such rescues in as many days...

Sharahnda and Leale Elder had pinned their hopes on leaving the world, as opposed to simply departing the Elven Kingdoms for some other piece of real estate on planet. Ten continents may have given rise to a very unique and potentially isolated political situation, but the families of the Kingdoms were definitely vindictive enough to try to eliminate deserters. More so, when those deserters had slain a night watchman on the way out.

Their journey south had been rather harrowing, having dodged several patrols looking for them, but one thing the Elder Family was truly good at was stealth. The other innate skill of the family was pathfinding; moving south from the Elven Kingdoms to the ComStar HPG in the no-man's land between the Elves and Humans had been a far simpler task, and safer than simply running south into the waiting maw of the Human nations. It was also, apparently, a counter-intuitive move to the Elves; only a cursory patrol had to be skirted on the route to the HPG. An abandoned farmhouse some miles north of the border town sufficed as a hideaway, close enough to Human territory that the Elves would not risk a search in the area, and isolated enough from the Humans as to not draw immediate suspicion.

Leale had moved out to the human border town nearby to collect some essential supplies, on the likelihood that the contract was never executed and they had to simply cut and run. When Sharahnda heard movement outside, not the kind of movement that Leale would make noise for, Sharahnda approached a window carefully to check the area outside the abandoned house. What she saw turned her blood cold.

"Sharahnda, I know you are in the building! Your flight is at an end!" The Elven tracker leading a party of human mercenaries shouted. "Sharahnda, make this painless on us, and we will make it painless upon you!"

Sharahnda initially intended to take up her bow, but a flicker in the room caught her attention. The ComStar Contract Token had changed to a flickering green — which meant that the contract had been accepted, and personnel were now on the world to rescue the two sisters. She lacked the psionic skills to try to sense where they were, but she trusted the matter to faith.

"A wise call, Sharahnda," Master Tracker Forven said after Sharahnda stepped out of the door with her hands up. "For a week, you have evaded capture. All such tales come to an end, though."

As Sharahnda walked toward with her hands visible to the human mercenaries, she saw movement in the distance — four persons in a strange manner of dress, what appeared to be the color of wood or sand with some kind of green overcoat and strange accessories? For certain, if they were carrying arms, they were unusual arms such as those carried by the troops from the ComStar facility.

Sharahnda deliberately looked away — she would harbor no false hope today, for those troops were over a hundred yards hence, nowhere near close enough to rescue the two ladies. "All such tales come to an end," Sharahnda echoed as she stepped past Forven to where her sister was standing with her back to a large tree.

"Mercenary Commander, have you a man with suitable skill and a sharpened sword for decapitations?" Forven asked.

"Aye," a man in chainmail said. "Fairhair!"

"It shall be done," a large man said as he stepped forward with a greatsword. He took position in front of Leale and leveled his sword to her neck. The human mercenary brought his sword back to propel the swing properly, and hesitated before he began the swing. In the moment of hesitation, something happened as Sharahnda watched the man with the sword: something entered his face at high speed, and the back of his head veritably exploded from the rear, covering the faces and tunics of more than a few nearby. The swordsman's body collapsed straight down in the moments thereafter, as if he had simply lost all control of his muscles (3).

A moment later, a muted clicking sound came to the hearing of all three Elves, but only Leale realized what it was — she was looking roughly at the source of the sound. One of the troopers had jolted slightly a bare instant before the executioner-to-be had been slain so expertly.

"What?" Forven groused in shock. "What caused th — " His sentence was cut short by something striking his chest and penetrating between links of Elven Chainmail. Part of whatever projectile it was had been sheared off by one of the links, and to Sharahnda's eyes it appeared to be some form of copper? The location of the strike was not entirely direct on an Elves' heart, but it would have been properly positioned when shooting a human.

"What is slaying us?" The mercenary troupe leader shouted after Forven coughed up blood from a penetrated lung. The troupe leader was next to take a hit, this time in the back (he was facing north), followed by two more hits in close succession that left three nasty holes in the back of his cuirass, and two large dents in the front of his armor plate. Leale realized that whatever projectile they were using was so small and so fast that it could not be seen by the naked eye.

The three strikes required to reliably drop the mercenary troupe leader had been enough noise to give away the savior's position. "Men to the south! To arms!" A smaller trooper said, pointing a short sword roughly at the men in sand and green clothing.

Sharahnda twisted around the tree to see what was happening, and was rightly surprised to see four persons — only four! Two ladies and two men — stand up and began marching toward the mercenaries. The small one of the group in sand and green clothing raised some kind of large device and began using it. The device was very noisy, lots of metal on metal clattering with muted popping sounds, but the screaming from the mercenaries told enough tale, it was lethal beyond compare. The two ladies raised their own devices and cut loose with their own hail of lethality.

The action lasted four long breaths, left no man standing amongst the mercenaries, and only two of them alive overall, a single human and Forven, who was still coughing up blood. The mystery saviors were slow to approach, still aiming their devices at the downed troops, until they were close enough to verify those mercenaries were dead.

"I have just witnessed a new and wholly frightening form of war," Leale said breathlessly. "Ten men and an Elven tracker in less time than a man would take to sit at a table and break bread."

"They are certainly a different troupe," Sharahnda said after she stood up and used a belt knife to cut Leale's bindings to free her sister. The sister was fast enough to stand up and survey the battlefield from proper height.

"Only one survivor," Leale pointed out after the last surviving human mercenary stopped moving.

The troupe approached to within a good lunge distance, still holding their weapons at the ready. "Left clear," the lady on the right (their left) said.

"Right clear," the short guy said.

"Area clear," the big guy declared. "You are Sharahnda Elder and Leale Elder?" he asked from under the brim of an unusual multicolored floppy-rim hat.

"We are," Leale said with some steel to voice. "You are the mercenaries from ComStar?"

"We are," the taller of the two ladies said. "Either of you two injured?"

"I am unharmed," Leale said.

"Same," Sharahnda commented. "Your skills at rescue are…" she said, but trailed the sentence off.

"Amazing," Leale finished the sentence. "And certainly timed perfectly. To stop an executioner cold before he could begin a swing!"

"Was not trying to run the clock so close," the big guy said as he did something to his staff — rod — something that involved removing a metal box from the bottom, which he dropped into a pouch on his left leg, then replaced it with another box from the front of his vest. "Still, glad to be in position to eliminate your harassers in time."

Tracker Forven laughed in response to the large mercenary's comment, which caused him to cough up another round of blood. "To be reduced to the title of harasser!" he gasped out. "A sad, strange end, and justice is denied."

The large mercenary took a knee next to Forven, his staff braced on the ground next to his leg and against his shoulder. "You speak of justice? What is their crime, to warrant such a frightening response?"

"We chose to leave, and in so doing, we had to strike down a guard outside our town to make escape," Leale answered the question.

"It is forbidden for our enclave to allow members to leave," Forven said. "If you will take them in, Mercenary, be warned: they will eventually leave you as well, rendering this action moot."

"So be it," the big guy said readily. "If they are struck by wanderlust, may they enjoy the journey to come; I have no intention of restraining them. A society that mandates captivity is a society that must be questioned, for there is no logical need to force enshrinement."

Forven coughed another mote of blood. "A typical Human response."

This time, the mercenary chuckled. "I doubt you expected a different answer." The big guy stood up and took upon himself the sling for his staff.

Leale caught sight of his right shoulder, and was significantly surprised by the markings on the outside of his sand-colored shirt. The unusual symbol in a circle was probably the unit symbol, much as was the dagger-star of ComStar, but below it were two strips with some other wording: 'Sigma One' in the upper strip, 'Regular Guy' in the lower strip. The significance of the latter phrase was haunting: if this was a 'regular guy' in reference to being a normal man, and this was the manner of warfare that 'regular guy' formations used, nothing was stopping them from exterminating the populace of this world except the thin patina of civilization.

Forven coughed again, this time a hoarse sound. "Other search parties will be here before the sun has moved a hand's width in the sky, Mercenary. And they will not be reliant on human mercenaries, such as I had to."

"Then you may yet be rescued alive, trooper," the big mercenary said. "As for my personnel and the two evacuees, we will be gone in five minutes."

"Five minutes, sir?" the larger lady asked. Sharahnda was taken by how red her hair was, almost to the point of glowing, which caused her to question if the mercenary trooper was human or something else.

"Sharahnda, Leale, gather any personal effects you wish to take with. Clint, northern overwatch. Toni, Erin, we salvage the deceased for coin, valuables, equipment. Contract says salvage is 60-40 with the employer, and they will likely need starting finance for their new home, and we can always use the extra finance for the world fund."

-x-x-x-

(26 March, Magi Year 14408 / Year SL 8838, 1130 Hours Local Time)
(Administration Building Mess Hall, First Floor, Base Boarhound, Terra 232)
(Day 9 of Campaign)

"Okay, that sounds like it could be a serious problem in sufficient quantity," Victoria Williams answered the briefing from Instructor Kelly Kotare, a blooded (Smoke Jaguar bloodheritage) Battlemech Instructor that had signed on with the 757th to gear up the Protectorate. His name was a bit of an illusion in practice: when someone first looked at the name, they were expecting a lady, or a normal guy, not the 7-foot-7-inch 440-pound slab of whoopass that was really attached to the name.

"And there is the overarching morale issue — the activities of yesterday were a fun watch, but there were some grumbles amongst the trainees. Not loud grumbles, mind you, but they were there, ma'am."

"Point taken, and to a degree, expected. That one I will have to pass on to Hess; he was thinking something in similar lines, maybe he needs to codify some manner of official policy?"

"To be able to tell the recruits what to expect would be welcome," Instructor Korate said.

Victoria had to set her lunch tray down to scratch her right arm by way of her left hand, and in so doing her hand passed across — "That's it! I have the identification problem resolved."

"You do, ma'am?" Instructor Kotare asked.

"Oh yeah. Rockers!" She pointed to her own, which like Hess, had 'regular guy' and 'Sigma Four' and that was it. "A rocker set for their progress, and that gives easy identification. An initial rocker for Basic personnel, something to show where they came from — inductee, Train Survivor, Refugee, similar."

"And one rocker symbolizes someone in basic training, I gander?" Kelly said as he stroked his mustache absently.

"Correct. Second rocker is Greenhorn — passed basic, onto advanced training. Third rocker is their initial posting, and added to that is their advancing achievements."

"Ah," Kelly said as he sat down across from Sigma Four. "So, someone who is an Armor Sniper would have the rockers Inductee, Greenhorn, Armored Infantry, Armored Sniper?"

"Correct," Victoria said. "Or, if one of the Instructors was to join up, their tower would be Multimage Empire, Trial of Position, Armored Infantry, Instructor."

"That makes sense," Kelly said. "A Trial of Position is a rather significant event. What else could be included?"

"For practical purposes, there is only so much sleeve space," Victoria said. "And a trooper in the service for 20 years, 30 years, longer, is going to earn a lot of quals or awards. I think, in such cases, we'll have to leave the exact worn rockers up to the discretion of the trooper. That said, we'll have to come up with quite a few different rockers."

"Ranks are one," Clint (Sigma Two) said as he sat down next to Kelly. "Callsigns, definitely. And our 'Regular Guy' rockers, those are going to have to be something special."

"Aff, after your performance yesterday, the term 'Regular Guy' has become synonymous with someone that doesn't look like anything special, but can kill his way through a crowded room without breaking a sweat," the Instructor said. "Or can kill a man at distances where the shot is unheard."

"The Callsign thing is going to be critical," Clarence said as he sat down next to his wife. "A mercenary unit lives or dies on their reputation. We just made some serious noise on MercNet today, three contracts completed in four days, with the unit having been in service less than a full week," Clarence waved his fork at Hess and the two Elven ladies just inducted into the unit. One of the two had signed up to learn the art of the sniper after seeing Hess in action today, and the other had signed up as an Armorer — one who maintains and modifies the weapons. Offhand, Clarence could not remember which was which, or which had taken which posting.

"True," Kelly Kotare answered.

"If a person earns themselves a particularly notable title, nickname, epithet, we make noise about it. Classic example would be Nereus," and Clarence waved his fork at the Executor, who was in line for lunch. "Paladin of the Deep Blue. That would make a helluva thing to pimp on the newswires, and a significant boost to morale and notoriety for our troops to earn such accolades."

"I see," Kelly said with a savage smile to effect. "If an enemy was to give someone an epithet, like, say, Katja of the Black Blade, we use that as both propaganda and as an honor to the trooper who earned it."

"Or if someone in the unit gains a nickname, random-ass example, Steve the Speed Demon, we make that kind of noise as well. Soon, in cases where we post contracts as unclassified or public announcement, if we are assigning some of those troops to the operation, we make sure the enemy knows what they're about to get savaged by. We make it known that they're not just facing run-of-the-mill mercenaries, they're facing our aces who have been there and scared the piss out of the enemies, and pretty soon the news gets around."

"One word of caution on that thinking," Star Colonel Storme said as she sat next to Instructor Kotare. "Every swinging dick you face in battle is going to be unconvinced that you are a real threat until after you've beat their asses. Even if you have a reputation two kilometers long, there will always be some Joe Buttplug on the far side of the battlefield that will have to be killed before he gets the message."

"Oh no, no worry about that," Clarence said. "Never expected our reputation to complete contracts by default, but that would be nice if we showed up and the party animals simply surrendered before we went to guns. No, my concern is scaring the fuck out of them in extended campaigns or revisits."

"That makes more sense," Star Colonel Storme said with a smile.

"Now, we need to write up a schedule and registry of honors and listings," Victoria said with a cute smile. "We'll want to present this to the boss tonight."

-x-x-x-

(26 March, Magi Year 14408 / Year SL 8838, 1300 Hours Local Time)
(Flight Line, Base Boarhound, Terra 232)
(Day 9 of Campaign)

"Hard to believe they've already put thirty freaking flight hours on these things," Mechanic Misty said.

"Not too hard to believe," Vincent Vandren said. Much like the rest of his staff, he was working on the aircraft at the moment because personnel requirements exceeded personnel available. On the other hand, there were some likely candidates coming off the trains at this time, people willing to work for their wages but leery of working for Sigma in either a noncombat or combat role. Working for Vandren meant effectively working for Sigma, but with a layer of insulation and deniability that was more psychological than real.

"What I find really hard to believe is that in an age of Omnimechs, Battlemechs, and Gundams being the kings of the battlefield, with aerospace forces being a close second, Sigma One is pinning hopes on helos, ground armor, and infantry," Line Maintenace Mechanic (4) Kyle Hollsworth said as he popped open the engine armor panel on the starboard side of Bird 2.

"Worse, he's employing Mages, a decidedly non-technological combat branch that has traditionally been the dominion of the Star Empires. Once word like that gets around, the employment fees for that kind of work is going to go ballistic," Lita Vandren, the daughter of the CEO, said calmly.

"Not at all," Secretary-turned-mechanic Alice Warwick commented from the far side of Bird 1, where she was helping Lita open up the engine for Preventative Maintenance. "He's got a good pay schedule laid in, better than the Star Empire military pay schedules actually. The only way a Mage could expect to do better is to go indie, which undercuts their contract availability."

"No, no, no," Senior Mechanic Henry Jotone said. "You never put a Mage in a position whereby they operate alone and unsupported. That is one lesson the Multimage Commanders hammer into every recruit. Never, ever leave a combat wizard unsupported. In that line of thought, it's good that the big guy is planning on making sure we have infantry and other forces along to guard the squishy mind-cannons."

"Squishy Mind-cannons? Where the hell did you get a name like that?" Lita Vandren asked bluntly.

"My left pocket," Jotone said with some facetiousness. "No, for us old tank drivers, we consider wizards to be something of artillery-done-mentally, except with the position of these troops being some of the friendliest lethal mo-fos you will ever deal with. Just don't ask a wizard what their opinion of a Ghost is."

"Ghost? I don't know no stinkin' Ghost," Misty Smith answered in a falsetto that was trying to be either Mexican or Truxican (5). Vincent couldn't tell which.

"Okay, before we devolve into the great debate of Mexican versus Truxican, opinion poll," A&P Mechanic (6) Beth Mlynarik prompted everyone while she was working her way into the gearbox on the Roadrunner. Vincent had to wonder if she was psionic and hadn't said anything about it, because the question echoed his own thoughts.

Lita and Misty both blew raspberries. "All right, what's the poll topic today?"

"Phoenix, Dragons, and Tigers. Yea or nay?"

"Oh my," Alice said in mockery of the question.

"Got no reason to say no to them," Kyle said. "Some of 'em are looking real good in human form, too. For a thirty-something looking to settle down, that's not a bad array of choices, you know?"

"Combine that with the humans, demi-humans, and partial humans in Sigma right now, that's a helluva long list of possibles," Beth said with a smile from the far side of the Roadrunner. "Damn, need some hydraulic fluid. Any on the truck?"

"Wise man once say, never leave home without a couple cans of Skydrol when fixing aircraft," Vincent said.

"Right," Mlynarik replied with some sarcasm.

"Former Magi, so you can probably guess my opinion," Henry said.

"Yeah, 'Fuck 'em if they can't take a joke' or 'fuck 'em if they can't work a job', depending on the circumstance," Misty said.

"Mine's a bit simpler. Fuck 'em if you're in love with 'em," Alice said, belying her normally uptight appearance and mannerism.

"And that beckons the question. The Boss and The Phoenix. Opinions?" Beth asked.

"Uh, who?" Vincent asked, on the assumption that Beth was referring to himself.

"Wrong boss, boss. Sigma One," Henry pointed out the ambiguous phrasing in play.

"Oh, that, thought I was seeing someone without seeing someone for a moment there," Vincent said. "Well, I've dealt with Toni a couple times, and she's a very nice person. The Big Guy is about the nicest guy I've possibly met, especially for the stories of the monumental arrogance of Americans."

"He gave us a second chance, for sure," Vince's daughter said. "That alone is plenty nice enough."

"And that shoot competition yesterday?" Alice asked in an arch tone, which pointed out a bit of a double-standard in her own conduct.

"Proof positive that he has it right," Kyle said. "You seen the shoot camera footage from his operation earlier today?" he continued while working on lubricating the rotor bearings for Bird 2.

"Was that what you were watching in the bay before we started packing up?" Alice asked, though she was referring to when she was packing materials and gear into the truck while several of the other personnel were watching something on one of the monitors.

"Oh hell yeah. Check it," Kyle pulled his rubber gloves, pulled out his tablet, and flicked the video file over to Alice (or, more specifically, passed it from his tablet to hers).

"Right," Alice said. She pulled her own rubber gloves, reached into her sling bag, and hauled the tablet out. "Okay, forest area?"

"Yeah, just watch," Vincent said. "You wonder why he's willing to gamble on stripping down in a shoot-ex? He's about to show you why, in living color."

Alice simply grunted, still watching her tablet, until: "Wait, he's — they're going to execute — " she drew silent after the first shot, shocked by both the precision and speed with which he took it, and the instantaneous death of the would-be executioner. "Damn," she said after the second shot that dropped the Elven enemy. "Three in a space smaller than my first!" she exclaimed after the third guy went down, dead.

"Clint, they made us," Hess said in the recording.

"Unleash Hell!" Sigma Two said after Hess stood up to begin firing and moving. The next few seconds of video were consumed by the muffled sounds of automatic fire with suppressors, until everything quieted down.

"You see now?" Misty asked. "You think the strip DMR competition was the problem? As that video shows, it was only a demonstration. Out in the real world, he crippled a pogrom in four seconds using those same skills and brought in two more recruits for the team."

"And 8000 c-bills plus some miscellaneous salvage, a quarter of which is split between the four troopers that participated," Vincent pointed out fairly. "And another uptick on MercNet."

Put in that light, Alice could easily see the benefit of the competition. She had not agreed with taking shots for stripping and profit, but she was agreeing with taking shots for people and profit. The complexity of the double-standard was not lost on her, nor was the perverse irony of it.

-x-x-x-

(26 March, Magi Year 14408 / Year SL 8838, 1500 Hours Local Time)
(Hess' Quarters, Administration Building 4th floor, Base Boarhound, Terra 232)
(Day 9 of Campaign)

Erin escorted the two participants into the room. "Sir Steiner and Dagger for the 1500 hearing, boss."

"Excellent. Please be seated," Sigma One waved to the seats across from his desk. Both were quick to be seated, though Steiner was a bit faster today than two days prior, now bereft of his heavy plate armor but still carrying the sword. Both had taken to the standard Desert Tan uniform of the Mercenaries without issue.

"Your rescue operation this morning was stunning," Sir Steiner said. "In three long breaths, you ended the execution and everyone involved in it," he explained, given that the gunsight footage from the battle had been relayed around barracks with alarming speed.

"I want to learn how to do what you did," Dagger said, almost impulsively.

Hess looked askance for a moment, then back to Princess Alexandros. "Which part?"

Dagger scratched her head momentarily. "There were two separate actions there?" she asked after a moment.

"The rescue-extraction itself, and the sniper work are two very separate skillsets," Sigma One said. "Still, they can be taught parallel to each other. We will work on this concept after the hearing." Unlike Dagger, Hess could see the shock on Steiner's face in such a discussion. "This informal hearing is now in order," Hess said with a tap of his fist against the surface of his desk.

Steiner set the tablet on the desk in front of Hess. "I studied as much as I could, sir, and I find myself truly horrified that such a tale was the history of your world."

"It is not simply the history of my world, because it echoes to greater or lesser degree elsewhere in Existence," Hess said. "You did, at least, thoroughly study the purpose and the results of the Nuremberg Trials?"

Steiner nodded affirm solemnly.

Hess sighed. "The lesson I am about to tell you is properly understood by less than one in five hundred of my countrymen from home, but is a necessary lesson for Sigma going forward. On the day of the conclusion of the Nuremberg Trials, the phrase 'I was following orders' ceased to be a proper defense for a military officer or soldier. Not solely because of the horrid actions taken by the defendants, but because the breakdown of honor and humanity that led to the attempted extermination of the so-called undesirable elements was itself so massive and deplorable that there was simply no justification for it. A soldier is always expected to act with honor, and there was no honor in the orders the Totenkopf were operating under. Thus, the renewed expectation that one acts honorably or one faces the music."

Steiner nodded a couple times, solemnly. "I understand this lesson, sir," he said quietly.

"And herein, you stand in position where you must now make the same decision as the troops of wars past. Your orders are to return the Princess to Alexandria. You know what the intention of those orders are, and you know what will happen at the execution of those orders. Never mind the effect on Dagger, who is the inadvertent harbinger of an effective weapon of mass destruction. Never mind the likely fate of the others you are traveling with. What happens if you achieve your objective?"

Steiner sighed. "Queen Brahne will extract the Eidolons from the Princess. What she intends to do with them afterwards is...hard to guess," he said.

"Not really," Hess said. He tapped twice on his desk. "Another lesson from the history of my world: mutually assured destruction."

"Sir?" Steiner looked up from the floor in between his legs. The term was grossly unfamiliar to Steiner, but wholly sinister.

"It is an old Cold War doctrine, and at its simplest form, is the effective guarantee that when the superpowers of the world cut loose their nuclear arsenals, everyone dies. And I do mean fucking everyone dies, because those who are not killed by the actual weapons detonating will shortly be killed by the nuclear fallout or nuclear winter. Figure, worst case, everyone on planet dead within a year if an all-out nuclear war happened. More likely timeline is six months before no notable amount of humans are alive on planet."

Steiner tightened his jaw but said nothing. Dagger simply looked down to the floor, disheartened by the direction of the conversation, but steeled to listen to it through.

"Mutually assured destruction assumes two things: one, everyone has the weapons, and two, everyone has the brass clangers necessary to push the button when the time comes. This scenario specifically does not apply to Alexandria, for one very blatant reason: right now, Queen Brahne does NOT have possession of any of the Eidolons. No weapons, no mass destruction. If you complete the orders given to you, the 'mutual' part of the phrase 'mutually assured destruction' no longer applies, making it simply 'assured destruction'. Only Queen Brahne would have the Eidolons, which means she would be able to use those weapons with impunity wherever, whenever she wanted. Queen Brahne could readily recreate the Holocaust on your homeworld, and no man could do a damn thing to stop her."

Under the logic trap that Sigma One had built, Steiner could only swallow hard against the growing lead knot in his stomach.

"Now, at this point, we loop back on the Nuremberg Trials. Let's assume that you do as ordered. Let's assume that Queen Brahne does as she intends, and takes possession of the Eidolons. She cuts loose on several other nations, causes a helluva lot of destruction. Following in the history that no Empire lasts forever, and an aggressor Empire such as an ultra-violent Alexandria lasts far shorter, what do you think is going to happen to you when it becomes known that you delivered the weapons of mass destruction to the Queen?"

Steiner was silent for more than a minute, staring at the floor between his legs and the desk. After he had steeled his resolve, he looked up. "There is only one answer to that question, sir." Steiner waved the tablet at Hess.

"Keep in mind, the Nuremberg Trials were at least a patina of organized justice, even if the outcome was effectively foregone. In your homeland, there may be less justice and more pogrom action involved in such a reprisal." Hess leaned back in his chair. "Still, you do understand the lesson I was trying to explain in a roundabout fashion. Now, on the standing matter, you wish to see Dagger home to Alexandria, Dagger does not wish to go, has your position changed?"

"Yes and no, sir," Steiner said.

Sigma One leaned forward, his elbows on the desk, staring at Steiner intently. Dagger thought it sufficiently creepy the way he was looking at Sir Steiner that Hess might have been staring into Adelbert's soul. "Talk to me," Sigma One said quietly.

Steiner sighed. "At some point, I do want to return to Alexandria, but not for the purpose of delivering the Princess to the Queen." Again, he waved the tablet at Hess. "This is the single most horrid thing I have ever read, and I see elements of it in the Queen's conduct. That nightmare must be stopped, for exactly the reason you pointed out."

"Then my duty as an instructor is done for this lesson," Hess said. "Now, the duty falls upon yourself, Steiner, and you, Dagger, to prepare for that day. Along with the rest of your crew, you shall have your work cut out for you. But now that you know what must be done, you have won the first half of the battle; the rest is yet to come. Dagger, you spoke of wanting to learn the process of hostage rescue and extraction?"

"Yes sir!" she said with more heart in it than Hess expected.

"The skills involved in that trade are tangential to what will be needed for your incursion into your homeland. Best you be ready for it. Train hard, train thoroughly, and remember that every engagement you succeed puts you a step closer to your goals. Any questions?" Neither inductee had any. "Dismissed."

-x-x-x-

(26 March, Magi Year 14408 / Year SL 8838, 1630 Hours Local Time)
(Executor's Temple, Luna Zero)
(Day 9 of Campaign)

Eric Atrebas paced the field of names in the Executor's Temple Hall Of Mastery, and internally sighed. With his wife having completed the latest upgrades to the enchantments on the Temple overall and to the Hall of Mastery in particular, the results had been expanded — and were even more shocking now. Now, of the seen entries on the list, less than ten percent of the shown were Executors.

"These entries… who are they?" a tourist asked the group he was with. Eric recognized his manner of dress as being Dynasty, one of the new class of businessmen in the otherwise traditional nation. In terms of interstellar or interdimensional businesses, The Dynasty Star Empire was big into magicked goods and low-technology systems, sort of as a contractor to the heavy industries in the Negaverse and the Illyaris Star Empires, and the evolving businesses pertaining to that trade was significant.

"I have never seen the like," a different tourist asked. Eric thought he recognized the voice as one of his brother Talpa's subordinates. "Given the way the Will Transcendent is looking at the same list, one would presume that the names are unfamiliar to the Executors as well."

Eric took a quick glance at the speaker and was confirmed of his assumption. "Dark Warlord Cale, it has been a while," Atrebas said.

"Indeed, Highness," Cale said with a chuckle. "Last we spoke, our nations were at war, and I was on the far side of your sword. Times do change, and with it the people therein."

"Some people change, others do not," Atrebas drew a bound around Cale's blanket comment. "Still, on the overarching question, I have reason to suspect that these beings are not simply rogue individuals. There may be something else at hand, organizations, Star Empires outside the purview of the Star League."

"Can we warn them off, prevent them from being ensnared in the bullshit quagmire of the Star League?" Cale asked.

What that I could truly speak to you of these men and their Empires, Atrebas thought but could not say. "I am hoping they are smart and advanced enough to understand the nature of the beartrap here, and avoid it with all due contempt for the charlie foxtrot enshrined south of this temple," Master Executor Atrebas said with a smile, referring to the Grand Council Palace Complex some 33 Kilometers due south of the Executor's Temple. The distance was close enough that it was convenient for the Senators to come north as was required of their positions on a monthly basis, but not close enough that the Executors could easily nuke the Grand Council by spellcraft from the Temple.

"So long as they get the message," Cale said. "Any idea who these names are?"

"No, not even a good idea where they are in Existence," Atrebas semi-lied with a straight face. He knew a good inroad to find most of them, but had no intention of doing so as it served no active purpose at this time. The Star Empire Alliance, the individual states of that Alliance, and the Crusaders were isolated for a good purpose, and the Star League did not need to have official contact with them. After a pause of a few seconds: "Not interested in going looking, either. As was demonstrated by the Crusader debacle some several centuries ago, it is easier and much less lethal to leave the sleeping dogs of someone else's war alone."

"Hands-off policy for other people's affairs? Far too reasonable for Star League practice, I daresay," Cale said with a broad smile.

"Too true," Atrebas admitted. "General tour of the old sites?" Eric inquired.

"Feeling the land out for Master Talpa, especially after the noise you made in pertaining to a certain Protectorate earlier in the week," Dark Warlord Cale said. "Of course, when on Luna Zero, would never miss an opportunity to visit the hallowed sites."

"Oh? How so?" Atrebas asked, though he suspected he knew the answer already.

"Between the protoform Protectorate, it's mildly insane leader, and your direct order for the Star League to remain hands off, you just turned Terra 232 into a Free Trade Zone of no small import," Cale said, then gestured with a wave to the businessmen in his party. "That's what this group is about, we came to petition the Executors for Judgment on the right of a Star League Member State to conduct business with a Pariah Protectorate such as Sigma, without fear of financial reprisal."

Atrebas chuckled heartily. "Yes, I would not put it past the Senate to assault my brother Talpa by way of vengeance legislation for working with an upstart such as Sigma. That said, such legislation would run afoul of more than a few Judgments from years past, not just the blanket hands-off order pertaining to Sigma. I know you are listening, Senator Glivenne, so take heed," Atrebas half-said over his left shoulder.

"Whatever," the Senator groused.

"The original Star League Charter was construed to allow free trade without exclusion or tax. Multiple Judgments have been put in place to ensure that remains reality. Do not try my patience pertaining to Sigma, or Free Trade to or from Sigma, or I shall deliver unto you a platter with your arse on it, follow?" Atrebas warned the Senator.

"Whatever," Senator Glivenne said before she wandered off.

"What are your thoughts, Dark Warlord?" Atrebas asked after the Senator was through with her huffing fit.

"Talpa was wondering if it would be possible to invest in the future of Sigma, perchance a front-weighted loan for services rendered in the future? Those two contracts they have executed in three days are rather stunning, more so that it was done at profit for the Protectorate," Cale said.

"Sigma One is incredibly sharp, Cale. Watch your step with that one, he is unlikely to accept a deal that puts a financial strain on the Protectorate, even a small one," the Will Transcendent cautioned the Dark Warlord of Cruelty.

"Taking the fun out of it, are you not? I always enjoy watching a bureaucrat sweat." The Executor shook his head. "Something else?"

"Sigma One has more brainpower than a third of the Senate combined, and matches or bests the other two-thirds. High Executor Nereus has been repeatedly astounded by how quickly or how preemptively he solves problems. Watch your step, and make sure you deal with him on the level, or it may be you left holding your own arse on a platter." Atrebas chuckled.

"Oh, nothing of the sort," Cale said with a mischievous smile. "I had heard the Protectorate has a need of funding, so I intended to offer him a 5 billion advance, to be paid back in services in the future. I daresay now such a loan would need to be provided at zero interest, perchance?"

"It is likely that is how the Executors and the Magi shall redeem their front-end loans, which were also zero interest," the Master Executor said.

The Watch Officer Executor (Veteran Executor Mindy Vickers, or more often known as Black Star Mindy) approached the Master Executor and bowed curtly. "My Liege, news from the planet of hot topic and cold results." She presented a note-puter to the Old Emperor.

Atrebas took ninety seconds to read over the news reports, the started chuckling mirthlessly. "Oh, this is good! Sigma strikes again!"

"Highness?" Dark Warlord Cale asked of the Master Executor.

"Three contracts in four days, and they have cleared Train 000523 of persons so it can be scrapped," Atrebas said. "All contracts so far are Personnel Extraction contracts, but that segment of the market has needed a champion for some time. This time, unlike the others, it was a wet operation. Come here, Senator, you'll want to see this," Atrebas flicked a video file from the note-puter to one of the informational monitor systems in the room.

The video caught the attention of the entire occupancy of the expanded and upgraded Executor Monument — there were four classes of secondary students in the room, assorted travelers, two Star League Senators, and the group with Cale. Interest was enough that the Executor AI switched the video over to all of the informational monitors in the room so everyone could see it without straining or crowding.

The caption said plenty:

SIGMA CONTRACT 0003
Extract Persons for Employment.
Operation Units: Sigma Command Section (Partial), Sigma Secret Service (Partial)
VIEWPOINT: Sigma One (DMR Rifle Camera)
NOTICE: Multiple enemy casualties.

The view started of a boresight camera on some kind of rifle, then quickly cluttered up as a hand reached in to attach a suppressor to the rifle. When it was loosed, the view showed three other troopers in Desert Tan with Olive Drab gear over it doing the same.

"Virtue, send us," a voice ordered, presumably the guy with the viewpoint camera.

The viewscape immediately changed over to light forest, the kind of treeline that played some amount of hell with ranged combat but made things far easier for infantry when facing armor.

"Objective should be north about 200 yards," someone else said (this one a lady).

"Guys, trouble," the guy with the light machine gun said. "There's the OP, and I'd wager a guess that the lady there is possibly one of our evacuees. Toni?"

A lady with bright red hair under a forest-camo boonie hat pushed forward and took cover behind a fat tree. "Confirmed, that lady is Leale Elder, and they're trying to call out her sister."

"Surge forward, take fighting positions at a hundred meters. We'll have to hammer those tangos flat so we can get the ladies out," the guy with the viewpoint camera ordered.

"So that is what he sounds like. Serious guy, but very weird accent," Dark Warlord Cale said.

"Kentucky, United States of America," Atrebas commented as the troops surged forward and took a decent stopping point about a hundred yards away from the enemy pogrom.

"Count two Hotels, ten Tangos," the guy with the Light Machine Gun said.

"Eleven Tangos," the lady with the red hair said. "And it looks like one big boy with a big executioner's sword."

"Not for long," the viewpoint guy said. His rifle steadied as the big guy in the distance wound back for a swing, then CLACK, the sound of a roller-bolt going back and forward was louder than the report from the bullet being fired, but the results were instant. The executioner simply dropped straight down, the contents of his head having been evacuated from the far side of his skull.

Cale simply chuckled. "This is starting to look like a solid investment," he said after the sniper dropped an Elven guy wearing light chainmail. Both in roughly three seconds.

Three rounds to the back of a guy wearing a plate cuirass caused him to collapse quickly enough, but — "They've made us," the viewpoint operator of the extraction team said.

"Unleash Hell!" the scrawny guy with the LMG said. Atrebas figured the viewpoint's lack of speed was in line with his physical condition, but his shooting was spot-on for a designated marksman. The other troops beat him to standing and beat him to putting fire on target, but by the end of the shooting the viewpoint rifleman had racked up five kills — roughly half the OpFor — in a four-man team. The Light Machine Gunner was number two in kills, with three, which was not a result to sneeze at.

"Wet, dirty, and effective," Atrebas said after the video cut out after the area clear declaration from Sigma One. "I think I may be getting my money out of this investment."

"How so, Highness?" a secondary school student from the Negaverse asked. "They traded ten dead and one crippled for two live ones."

"Those are two pure-blood Elven ladies they rescued, and both were young, meaning that they have centuries in service to come. Assuming they go the family route, they will definitely expand numerically well past the slain in that mercenary party. That, and those two ladies now have the opportunity to save other lives — Extraction for Employment, per the contract. Sigma One is building a chain reaction by making such moves," Atrebas explained. "And with the disassembly of the Trains, he is really working hard on power-leveling the chain reaction."

Senator Glivenne grunted in dissatisfaction. "You watch, Master Executor. That fat boy will stick his wang in the wrong place and will end up hamburger for it."

"And I thought the art of illusions to be the dominion of Dark Warlord Daes," Cale said with some humor to voice.

"Should Lord Daes ever require a refresher, the Senate is a good master to study under in thine arts of illusion and bullshittery," Atrebas said with complete gravity. "Now, I have business to see to, ladies and gentlemen. Cale, good luck on your project."

"Hai, Atrebas-Sama," Cale said with a formal bow.

"Give my regards to Brother Talpa when next you return home. Until then, have a good evening."

-x-x-x-

(26 March, Magi Year 14408 / Year SL 8838, 1900 Hours Local Time)
(Hess' Quarters, Administration Building Fourth Floor, Terra 232)
(Day 9 of Campaign)

The door to the bathroom opened and Toni stepped out in bathrobe. "Much better! That forest area was a bit hotter than I thought, or something else was wrong."

"Stress," Sigma One countered. "The stress of battle causes you to heat up internally, a defense mechanism for your body. That, and moving around in full gear to fight a shooting action, that doesn't help cool you down."

"Good point, big guy," Toni said as she sat down next to him. "Five in twenty seconds," she commented, looking at his rifle.

Hess shook his head negative, then held his hand up with a cleaning rod in hand. Both his fist and the cleaning rod were jittering to a significant degree. "Like I said, stress."

"It makes no sense," Sharahnda Elder said. "You… So calm, but still shaking?"

"I am speaking and thinking calm because I can force myself to appear calm. That does not change the stress in my subconscious, it only disguises it." Hess sighed, then ran the cleaning rod down the barrel of his UMP40 again. Even if he did not fire it, he always cleaned his weapons after a day's operations were concluded.

The elder of the two evacuees had wasted no time volunteering to learn how to maintain and manufacture the weapons that had been used to save herself and her sister. Hess had taken a few moments to demonstrate the true effectiveness of his M25 on the METARgraphic range to both, and thus vindicated both their desires — Leale to become a hostage rescue sniper, Sharahnda to become an armorer. Victoria had wasted no time signing both of them up and seeing them to barracks for their basic training — both were reasonably fit, so the conditioning was perfunctory, the weapon training was the critical aspect. Basic Training for both would begin tomorrow, but for today Sharahnda would observe how Hess covered what would be her job.

"If one was to place me in a polygraph test right now, there would be massive spikes on several of the readings from my accumulated stress."

"Stress is not good," Toni said as she leaned into the table. "We need to do something about that."

"For starters, no contract tomorrow, and as a practical matter I have several government functions to work on, so staying around the base would be helpful," Erich said after he reassembled the action on his UMP40 and did several charge tests on it.

Toni leaned back and stretched. "I could see that being handy. What's going on?"

Erich set aside his UMP40 on a junk towel to dry out from the cleaning and oiling he had just given it. "The voting for the major issues are tomorrow, and the Mayor from the nearby town will be in town to discuss some issues pertaining to public utilities. Also, would like to get some range time in to do testing on shotguns."

"Shotguns? What are you planning, sir?" Toni asked.

"Well, there will be circumstances where a shotgun is the best bet for combat." Hess pulled the slide apart on his pistol and removed the barrel / chamber assembly from the slide frame. "Think about this one. You commented earlier on a contract for the Greeks against the Persians, back in the BC era?"

"I was. Cluster bomb comes to mind, sir," Toni said with a savage smile.

"Not what they were willing to pay for, the Greeks were asking for Infantry. So, outside of explosives, what is a troopers best friend in close for large enemy formations?"

"Flamethrower," Toni said quickly.

"Good answer. Second best friend?" Hess asked.

"Second best is the first loser," Toni pointed out fairly. "But I know you are going to say shotgun."

"Shotguns also have an advantage over flamethrowers, they require far less training and are reasonably safe for anyone to use. Flamethrowers, though useful in certain circumstances, become a liability under ranged combat circumstances. Shotguns are simply a weapon to be put in a scabbard over your shoulder when not in use, or in a side weapon catch like how I do the UMP40."

"Okay, you have a point," Toni conceded after a few seconds.

"Another thing to consider: When firing at masses of underprotected enemy infantry, you take a shotgun, load it with 000 Buck, aim it at upper chest or neck level, and cut loose. If you have a couple dozen troopers doing so, you can cut swaths of enemy out of a formation easily. A couple units with shotguns would easily be able to chew through that contract you were talking about."

Toni looked at Hess askance, then leaned back and folded her arms over her chest. "Hold your hand up for a second."

"Huh?" Hess did as requested, which proved his hand was still jittering.

"I am thinking, we're dumping too much stress on the front-end operators," Toni said. "We'll end up burning people out if we go with Clint's operational schedule — or worse."

"Worse, likely," Hess admitted his own misgivings on the matter. "What are you thinking, Toni?"

"After a unit goes out, does a contract, they come home for at least a few days rest, unwind, and training. Depending on how bad things got, maybe a week or more. Then turn around and do another contract. If we pace it to, say, three contracts a month per unit, it becomes a lot more manageable. Same for the Train units: three, maybe four ops a month, tops, and we should be low and slow enough to prevent burnouts."

"Aye, so long as we don't stall out, as well. Virtue, on three Contracts a month per unit, will we break even on expenses?" Hess asked the AI unit in the systems.

"Initially, no," Virtue answered. "It will take some months or years before the mercenary unit has the volume and veterancy to break even consistently. On the other hand, when combined with our other operations in the Rail Guard, and with the expectation of business ventures and taxes, even posting a consistent loss under the mercenary outfit does not cripple the Protectorate's finances."

"Told you," Toni said with a smile. "I asked the same question earlier."

"So long as we don't self-destruct the rest of the effort, certainly," Hess said. "Virtue, change up the operational schedule. Three operations a month, units may volunteer for more, but no unit will by default run consecutive combat operations without at least a day off between operations," Sigma One changed the operations tempo for the entire Protectorate, and thus remade how his mercenary unit would be evaluated and managed in years to come.

"Understood, operations info has been changed," Virtue acknowledged. "Assuming one in five units volunteers for a faster operations pace, the Mercenary division should break even in roughly 14 months."

Sharahnda simply shook her head. "Such a decision would have taken the Council of Kings months to debate, decide, and declare. You just did in a manner of minutes what my homeland would take two lunar cycles to achieve."

Hess nodded. "It was my duty to understand, plan, and implement corrections to problems at this pace, before I turned my hands to building a nation. I never hesitate in solving the problems, just in finding the solution. And I like to make sure the solution works."

"I have much to learn," Sharahnda said. "Much to learn about the group, and much to learn about the duties of an Armorer."

"Time and practice," Hess said. "As you gain base skills, you build up to more detailed and challenging duties, such as modifying firearm actions, loading custom munitions, and eventually hand-building your own firearms. It is all a factor of time and practice."

The lesson would echo for years to come, one refugee on a mission to learn how to arm a country would inadvertently create a movement that made changes in the way nations fight the logistics battles of wars… including Sigma.

---

Author's Chapter Afterword:

Another day, another contract.

As with every chapter of every story I try to write, even if there is a decided lack of major material in the writing, I try to sneak in at least one or two major points. In this case, the major point to pay attention to is the way Clint resolved the standing issue of clearing two trains. Now, as I pointed out in the actual section, Sir Launcelot is the clear technical winner in terms skills. On the other hand, it wasn't simply the combat skills that the Militiamen used to win the first train. More often than not, it was negotiation and public relations that prevented battles before they began. On this, click decided that Megan Christiansen and her element was the better choice for the train that is not yet been touched.

On that note, you may now expect a third Sigma story to be published here shortly. Won't be this week, not likely to be next week, but it will be coming. While clearing the trains is a very critical task for the Protectorate going forward, it is not, by definition, a primary activity or primary material for these chapters of the initial story.

The other major point that I would like to point out is the position of Dark Warlord Cale and by extension the position of the Dynasty Star Empire. By technicality, all six of the major Star Empires have taken notice of the Protectorate Sigma. This was not strictly by design of the Will Transcendent, he wanted at least some patina of secrecy to help shroud the Protectorate during its infancy, but in the end the major publicity may turn out to be a better armor than simply being unseen. After all, with Sigma becoming a instant sensation on the major news networks, it now becomes effectively impossible for The Star League to get away with destroying it. More to the point, such publicity engenders directed contract quests; unlike standard mercenary contracts that are applied to Merck net in the hope of somebody picking them up, direct it requests would be tailored specifically to the strings of the Sigma Mercenaries forces. Such contracts would also entail very hefty signing bonuses.

On minor points, take your pick. Two new major named characters, the conclusion of Steiner's lesson, an official change of gear for Sigma One, there is always a lot of small meets chew on. Probably, if there's any one thing that stands out among the small stuff, the helicopter medical evacuation would be on that list. It is one thing for the Protector to simply take over, it is a wholly different thing for the Protector to take over and actually provide critical services such as medical, fire, or law enforcement. More so, when the people actually want the services. And are willing to support the fledgling government in so doing.

Other than that, not much else to say about chapter.

NEXT UP: the influx of people from the trains cleared on this day begin to assimilate into the new Protectorate that they found themselves living in. There may be some system shock involved, but the promise of a new future is alluring beyond the sameness of their prior life on the train. And the call to freedom.

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Review Replies: 5 Reviews for this chapter! That's helluva good feedback! KEEP IT COMING!

HolyDragoon: The Mebius Suit is possible, as is the T-51b from Fallout. Stay tuned for possibles.

Actually, depending on the contract, the scale, and salvage or kill bounty rights, it is theoretically possible to post a net loss on a contract in expenses and still come out ahead of the game due to prestige and service. You'll see quite a bit of that early on in Sigma's history, but it will happen throughout.

Sajuuk: You can rest assured, R&D is not just for weapons or mobile forces. Sigma's big draw is actually going to be non-MS and non-Battlemech forces, so they will receive a lot of primacy in these matters.

Stargate is not necessarily in the cards yet, but is theoretically possible. Star Trek is on my author's shitlist, but a lot of the space Operas you mentioned are very much possible.

Your PS: point assumes that the Star League is actually going to survive intact long enough to see how big Sigma gets. I am not betting on that, given their present standing amongst the Star Empires.

Knives 91: I think I'll one-up you: tanks out of Dropships. Plural tanks. Without landing.

KPheonix: NP, amigo. Long reviews, short reviews, it's all good to me.

Toni is a Magi-born (strike one) Celestial Phoenix (strike two) who is by nature not the most patient person in Existence (strike three) and has it hard for Hess (strike four). The frustration she's showing is mostly patience issues, but all four strikes are contributing factors.

Dave Girna, and the rest of his family, will be doing that infiltration routine professionally. Eventually. He was gambling, granted, but there are advantages to having a Psionic around…

The loss by Clint is due to skill, being a bit behind hess, actually, both in precision and range skills.

Megan's lesson on the art of Train Clearing and time to build skills will begin abruptly in the second chapter of the Sigma 0003 story (in production right now).

Winblades: At the time you wrote out the review, I had completed the section in the chapter above that addresses your points, so we can chalk this one up to a case of great minds seeing issues and dealing with them in parallel. That said, your points are very much valid to Humans with some variability, but as you pointed out, there are subtle differences with the other races. That said, Yolei is a hardass example of a Nymph, and was pushing herself past the point of reasonable risk, Hence Hess' speech in the medbay.

That said, the exact limits have not yet been detailed, so that may be covered in a coming chapter.

Thanks for the input!

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The Gripe Sheet:

MEA CULPA: In the strip shoot-ex in Chapter 9, I listed the rifle in use as the M24, which is the Army's present long-action bolt sniper rifle. It is NOT a Designated Marksman's Rifle. The DMR in use by the United States Army is the M21 (Army) or M25 / White Feather (SOCOM / SEALs). I will have the nomenclature mixup corrected likely before anyone reads this.

As to standing gripes for the chapter, Winblades called me on a technical detail at the same time I had already included at least part of a correction on. Always good to have critical eyes on my writing, so much obliged for the shout! On the rest, much thanks to Takeshi Yamato, Sieben Nightwing, One Village Idiot, and Necroblade for the beta support!

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Footnotes:

(1): Designated Marksman's Rifle. Essentially, an intermediate step between a common infantryman's rifle and and a dedicated sniper rifle, the DMR provides long-range hard hitting accurate fire with the option of firing rapidly if needed to do so in close quarters.

(2): Open Tip Match, a hollowpoint round that is designed not to expand in the fashion of most hollowpoints, used mostly for its excellent accuracy and consistency round after round. This has to do with the jacket being drawn up from the base of the bullet on an OTM slug, rather than the bullet being forced into the front of the jacket as in a FMJ or LAP round, which improves concentricity in mass-manufacturing situations.

(3): Brainstem shot. By destroying the 'small brain' that controls all voluntary and involuntary muscle control and neural control distribution, the body simply loses all muscle tension and completely relaxes in the instant after the hit.

(4): Line Maintenance Mechanic refers to mechanics that are specialized in doing routine, low-level maintenance and upkeep on craft but also have the capability of doing more major services as needed. Essentially, a Line Maint Mechanic is the aircraft equivalent of an oil-change-shop technician as compared to a full ASE-certified mechanic or Body Shop Mechanic.

(5): Truxican is from Borderlands, that series' equivalent of Mexican. Yes, you read that correctly. And why you read that correctly will eventually be covered in depth in Sigma.

(6): Airframe and Propulsion Mechanic. Exactly what it says on the tin, this is a mechanic that specializes in the frame and engine systems of a craft.

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Included Works:

—Real Life Armaments — too many to name, that is most of the arsenal shown.
—Real Life Combat Gear — the vests and gear carried by the Militia troops are easily constructible from stuff you can buy on Amazon or Cheaper Than Dirt. No, Seriously, Look it up. Do a search for "UTG Modular 10-Piece Complete Kit", and you have a good look at a starter kit for any serious gearhound.
—Real Life Concepts
—Real Life Time Period: 1930s New York City (Shown in Chapter 2, referenced in chapter 3)
—Real Life Equipment: The Caterpillar equipment showcased in the chapters is based on real life designs or equipment from said manufacturer.

—Real Life Mythology: The Phoenix race of beings are derived from the mythological Phoenix (Egyptian) and Thunder Bird (Native American). That said, I have made some serious modifications to the whole principle that will be revealed in coming chapters.
—Real Life Mythology: The first of many Valkyrie have joined the blossoming Protectorate. That said, do not confuse the Valkyrie with the term Valkyria — separate work, separate purpose. (Shown in chapter 7)

—Personal Works: The Star Empires are mentioned briefly here. Additionally, the Magi Empire is named specifically.
—Personal Works: The nations of the Jokers Wild are mentioned in Chapter 6. There is a very good reason for that.
—Personal Works: The Star League is a derivation of the Star League from Battletech, but founded by Queen Sora Serenity (Executor-Queen Sora Takenouchi).
—Personal Works: The Executors are specialized Mages who have transcended a minimum of twice (Gods and Goddesses are a minimum Transcendance of once) and are specially commissioned to defend life and honor amongst the Star League territories or member states.
—Personal Works: The 10mm Kurz cartridge is a shortened / lower velocity / lower weight version of the 10mm BG round, developed by the Magi for 'crowd pleasing' against large masses of Negaverse troops, most of which were unarmored during the Star Empire Wars. It quickly became a favored heavy machine gun round for multiple purposes after the fact. (Shown in Chapter 1)
—Personal Works: Gerald Lightbringer is most famous for his participation in my Jokers Wild series, but his history is far stranger than either story properly shows. (Last seen in chapter 5)
—Personal Works: The last section of Chapter 6 makes it clear that the Jokers Wild, Sigma, and Multimage Chronicles are interconnected at multiple levels. This WILL come back to haunt everyone involved, in multiple ways.

—Anime General: the oddball hair colors, especially endemic to nonhumans.
—Anime General and D&D: the nonspecific concept of Elves, Nymphs, and Sylphs.
—Anime Trigun: Vash The Stampede, Millie Thompson, and Meryl Strife took the wrong train, ended up hanging out, and now are tagging along with the Militiamen.

—Game: Battletech: You are starting to see some serious discussion of Battletech units and force concepts in this chapter. They will become more prevalent as the story marches on. (Happens off and on.)
—Game: Dungeons and Dragons (First Edition): A lot of the spellcraft will be drawn from D&D as well as other sources to be named.
—Game: Dungeons and Dragons (First Edition): The concept of the Dragons of many colors is drawn from the D&D First Edition
Monster Manual. Some mods were made (the Platinum dragon is not unique, and the Eternal Dragon is a wholly new class).
—Game: Final Fantasy IX: The player cast of the game (Zidane, Dagger, Steiner, Freya, Vivi, Eiko, Red, and Quina) were residing in one of the dining cars, but are now members of Sigma's Basic Training Group.
—Game: Infantry Online (Sony Online Entertainment): The CAW from the early section, and named in the stinger, is a different-manufacturer version of the Kuchler A6 CAW. (Shown in Chapter 1)
—Game: Call Of Duty MW2: The Remington ACR in use in this story is based on the Magpul Masada / Bushmaster ACR / Remington ACR in use in said game. Hey, even if it was pooh-pooed in real life, someone in an alternate dimension would do it right, ne?
—Game: Command And Conquer Renegade: The Infantry Ion Cannon (Portable Ion Cannon) is a personnel weapon from Renegade, and is considered a mainstay amongst the Star Empires. (Seen in Chapter 8, to be seen frequently in the future))

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Contracts executed in this chapter:

0003: Offer from a Adult, Female (29) Single Person Elven Rebel from Classical times (1450 to 1600) for Hostile Extract For Employment against Contract to Kill / Capture
Sorties: 2

Contract Special Requirements:
Classified: Not Classified
Unit Type: Mobile Army (Overridden locally)
Ammo Expenditures: Full Ammo Expenditures
Minimum Requested Units: 5

Pay is 8160 in Credits
Salvage is 60 percent Salvage Rights, Preferential Choice
Kill Bounty is None