"Mission accomplished, boys and girls let's-"
"Contact! Shit, it's an Atlas!"
"Sunburst is hit! Did anyone see a pod?"
"We need to get back to the dust-off, commander!"
"Focus fire on that thing, light him up!"
"Hey, Marco wake up! Our employer will arrive any minute now." Commander Marco Reeds' eyes shot open to the painfully bright light of his cabin. He groaned as he rubbed his eyes struggling to adjust to the sudden change in lighting. Gradually, his eyes finally focused, and he glanced at a clock that read 1055. Today was 2 April 3026. Their employer was to arrive any minute now. Marco turned to his XO, a lean, short woman with raven-haired cropped to her neck by the name of Lieutenant Jessica Tseng who stood in between the hatch and the only other person with access to his cabin. Her tone felt a little more anxious than usual "I'll be there in a minute, Jess. Give me a second." Marco replied.
Marco Reed got out of his bunk still wearing his pilot's jumpsuit, grabbed his neurohelmet hanging on the bulkhead, and walked to the mirror. After splashing his whiskered, grizzled face with icy water he glanced at an old photograph of him and his father standing on the hangar walkway moments before he first strapped into a BattleMech: his father's ancestral Centurion. Next to that was an emblem bearing the bull of the Taurian Concordat. Ten years ago seemed like yesterday; Marco was only 18 years old and the splitting image of his father, about half a head shorter. They shared the same heart-shaped face, bronze complexion, and penchant for gutsy maneuvers which was required of any Mechwarrior. To the left of that was one of his mother, whom he knew little about save for the name of Anna. The photograph captured the beauty of a blue-eyed brunette with a slender face and a beckoning smile. Reed Sr. never spoke much of her and anytime one mentioned her, his brown eyes would be filled with a bittersweet sorrow and longing before he quickly changed the topic.
The hatch opened to reveal the Operations room with scarce decoration save for orange or red colored paneling indicating serviceable areas. The Leopard was a well-maintained crate and served as both dropship and HQ for Marcos' band of mercenaries. Nicknamed the "brick" for its shape and atmospheric handling, it could hold 4 operational BattleMechs; an entire lance, a crew complement of nine, not including techs and pilots, and a variety of missiles, particle projector cannons, and lasers for point-defense. One day Marco aspired to upgrade to a carrier that would house the Leopard for operations. Namely the venerable Union -class dropship.
In the center of a table with a holographic display showing the Leopards' position in the Jacson system on the border of Liao and Davion space. Tseng stood at the end of the table with their employer: a graying middle-aged man with a scar running across his eye covered by a patch. He stood upright despite walking with a cane. The man bowed and introduced himself. He spoke with a proud, but weary air that belied his experience "I am Cho-Tseng Han. I have served House Liao and the Capellan Confederation honorably for many years. From one warrior to another, I beseech a mercenary such as yourself." Marco smiled and nodded at the 'grizzled honorable warrior' schtick that many of his older employers greeted him with. Jessica shot him a look that told him to exercise patience. Han began to pace about the Ops room "My only son, Cho-Tseng Chen was a promising warrior and 'mech pilot. I trained him myself you know!"
Just get to the point, old man Marco thought. "My family has served for generations and have done their duty to the State and House Liao. I was proud when he came of age and was ready to face the enemies of our country."
His voice turned sorrowful, but maintained pride "But alas, on his first engagement against raiders and pirates, he vanished."
"Did you track his emergency transponder?" Marco interjected
"I would have if he let one off."
"That's curious. Why would our-" Jessica paused for a moment. Marco shot her a look "VIP not set off his transponder?"
"Perhaps he was ambushed, and his assailants jammed all transmissions." Marco replied
"Maybe, but emergency transponders are the first thing you hit in situations like an ambush."
"He must've gotten hit pretty hard then."
Han slammed his cane to silence the debate "When the site where my son was last reporting was investigated, there was no evidence of weapons discharge and I have received no transmissions demanding any ransom. I spent months trying to find him. If he activated his transponder, I would have found him. I fear that he may have turned his back on his honor and his family. It pains me to ask this of you, but I must ask you to remove him."
Marco maintained his place, but he saw Jessica's brow furrow slightly and her body stiffen. He was used to displeased parents asking their wayward offspring to be eliminated, but Jessica seemed to take it the hardest. Marco stepped forward "What kind of 'mech did he pilot?"
"He was last seen in piloting a Vindicator. Expect a full lance or more of pirates to accompany him."
"What's our payment look like?" Marco spotted Jessica glaring at him out the corner of his eye as he spoke.
"I will pay 500,000 C-Bills now, and then 3 million upon completion of the contract."
"I will take half, but I want full salvage-rights."
Han paused. "As you wish, mercenary. I would do this myself, but my fighting days are long behind me. I have sent all the information to your lance that will be participating in this mission. I'm thankful for your support."
"Glad to be of service." Marco replied. Jessica spoke up "Commander, I need you to check in with Jorgensen and confirm your lance ready status." Marco was never referred to as 'Commander' unless he was on the field. "Sure thing" He replied "I'll talk to you later" She curtly added.
Marco took his leave out of the Ops room and into the whirring of tools and sparks of the hangar bay. Jessica almost ran at Han with a finger pointed at him angrily. He couldn't make out what they were saying due to the strong sound insulation in the Ops room.
"Warning: Planetfall in 15 minutes. All personnel, report to your stations." The automated PA announced. Marco stepped down the ladder to the floor of the hangar bay as techs scurried about the floor while marines patrolled the walkways. He scanned the hangar bay to see the techs putting the finishing touches on the units' complement of BattleMechs. Across from his Centurion was a haunch-legged Crab that belonged to the hot-headed Gertrude "Huntress" Oppenheim hailing from the Lyran Alliance. Next to that was a bipedal Rifleman with a terrifying array of fast-firing autocannons, that one was driven by the quiet Yoshitomo "Deadeye" Shinji from the Draconis Combine; and a Hunchback another bipedal 'mech with a terrifyingly large Autocannon-20 mounted on its shoulder. That hulk was piloted by the resident joker Jack "Rooster" Gullah who used to call the Free Worlds League his home.
Marco eyed a large bear of a man wearing a welder's mask working on the middle of the leg of his Centurion with the help of a service platform. "Jorgensen!" Marco called out. The man lifted his mask to reveal a bald, thickly bearded square-faced working man "Marco!" His voice matched his size as it boomed over the sounds of drills and welders. The service platform began its slow descent until it reached the bottom. "Ready to head back out there?" Jorgensen asked as he clasped hands with his commander.
"Just about. How's our ready status?"
"Just putting the finishing touches on your 'mech, boss. She took a real beating from that last scrap a month ago. It's a miracle I was able to get everything up and running. Especially when we had to scrape-"
"You don't need to mention that bit, Jorg." Jorgensen paused. "Right, sorry." The loss of Geoffrey "Sunburst" McClintock weighed heavily on Marco's mind. There was a 2-month break from their last mission after an Atlas; a 100-ton skull-faced steel beast wreaked havoc after what was supposed to be an easy search-and-destroy. Marco would have joined McClintock in death if he didn't snap out a daze caused by witnessing an Autocannon-20 HE round making purchase with the canopy of McClintock's Hunchback. He and his lance worked to bring the beast down to avenge the young Mechwarrior. Eventually, an Autocannon-10 round from Marcos' Centurion brought the monster down.
"It was rough, Mechwarrior. But you and your lance made it. And there was a big payout after that just for facing down that thing. More than covered the repairs!" Marco was silent in response. He kept drifting off to that moment feeling like this battle would be his last. He recalled sweating bullets as his onboard computer clinically warned him of damage to several critical components and weapon loss. The klaxons blaring echoed in his mind as the image of a skull-faced metal monster remained burned in his mind. "Hey, I was a pilot once too if you can believe it even with my small size" both men chuckled at the reassuring joke. "These kinds of things happen. You can prepare for so many things and it will still hit the fan at some point. You're a good leader and pilot, Marco. Your papa would be proud."
Marco thought back to working with his father and running missions. It was the coolest job an 18-year old kid could have in the Inner Sphere: Stomping around in a 30-foot tall engine of destruction powered by a fusion reactor with enough firepower to level a city block
Not to mention getting paid for it. Often handsomely.
The thought was sobered by his father telling him to make it to the dust-off without him as he struggled to fend off an entire lance in his Maurader. He watched as laser and missile brought his 'mech to its knees before the killing blow was delivered by a PPC to the canopy. No ejection pod flew out. Marco was 23 years old.
He snapped out of his thoughts by asking about business "So, anything left before we confirm ready status?"
"I was just putting the final touches on her. Had to mess around with the autocannon feeding ramp for a while. That thing is such a piece of work! Other than that, she has fresh plates and paint. I've already done the pre-deployment check on the rest of your lance. Just turn her on and she's ready to go when you are!"
"You never let me down, Jorg. Remind me to give you and the techs a raise after this op."
Jorgenson grinned widely as he clapped Marco on the back with a smile and returned to his duties. "Everyone's ready when you are." He looked up at his 50-ton metal steed. The Centurion wore a crest on its head for the soldier loaned from its namesake. It was a boxy, angular thing with an 80mm Autocannon-10 mounted in its right arm. Despite a fragile feed ramp, it remained a potent weapon in the right hands. He replaced the Long-range missile system (LRM) with a dumb-fire Short-range missile system (SRM) mounted in the torso complemented by dual medium lasers mounted parallel to it. He used the spare weight to add more heat sinks to vent waste heat from firing weapons.
Before he could step onto the service platform, he heard Jessica's voice call out to him. "Marco" she addressed him by his name which means she must've cooled down considerably. There was still some degree of fire in her voice which made him cautious.
"Have the pilots been briefed?" He asked.
"They have." She replied. She took a step forward.
"Look, I know it's not my place to question the job we take. You're the commander after all. But that was my Uncle who gave you that job. And the man you're hunting is my cousin."
"Surely he would have told you that this mission was search-and-destroy not search-and-rescue."
"He didn't. I just… Coming from him, I just figured that there would be news on Chen and we'd find him dead or alive."
"I know he's family, but a job's a job and we've been out for a solid month. Reeds' Raiders aren't hurting financially right now, but I'd like to make sure we stay in the black."
"I know, I just…" She paused to pick her words "When you find him out there. If you find him out there, try to talk him out of it, alright? I know you can't promise anything, but just try for me okay?"
Marco remained silent. She'd known him for a long time and he knew that pleading look from anywhere. She was minor royalty in House Liao, but her upbringing was outsourced to another royal family that Reed Sr. did work for. While she was good at handling a BattleMech, her organizational and tactical analysis were bar none. Mercenary life meant keeping the personal out of the way of business, but it would be tough with her.
"Warning: Planetfall imminent. All non-essential personnel. Please clear the hangar bay. Mechwarriors, prepare for combat." The PA system announced. The Leopard began to rumble as it started its descent into the atmosphere. Jessica took her leave back to the Ops room as Marco made his way up the service platform. His Centurion bore the many marks of carbon scoring and pockmarks from missile and autocannon like a scarred gladiator. Freshly grafted plates helped to hide the scars on his 'mech, but telltale welds that the best techs in the Inner Sphere can't hide will reveal a 'mechs time in combat. Across from his bay, he already saw Gertrude "Huntress" Oppenheim climb into her Crab which looked more like the front end of an airplane fuselage on chicken legs bristling with lasers.
When he reached the top, he donned his neruohelmet, climbed into the hatch, and buckled in. Alarms blared as the turbulence began to slow down just in time for the final startup procedures. An array of switches, buttons, and screens greeted him as he seated himself in the command couch. He pressed a large red button on the right-hand side of the dashboard. "Reactor: Online" the clinical onboard 'mech AI greeted him as the 'mech's fusion reactor started to hum just in time for the 'mech platform to rotate toward the hangar bay hatch. Marco felt his body shift slightly as the 'mech turned.
His 'mech status flashed on his neurohelmet on the bottom right of the visor, in addition to a screen on the right of the dashboard. He proceeded to 'mech startup procedure as he flipped a variety of switches linked to radar and secure wide-band communication channels on the left-hand side of the dashboard. A radar screen flashed on the top right of his visor in addition to the center of the dash. "Sensors: Online." Next came calibrating the weapon systems and deactivating safeties, he flipped a few more switches on the right-hand side of the dashboard. "Weapons: Online. All systems: Nominal".
The hangar bay doors opened to a sparse scrubland at midday. He eased the Centurion out the hangar bay as the metal steed plodded against the sand. Already, his radar picked up a pair of VTOLs inbound on his location with weapons primed.
There was no turning back now.