To the Wild Frontier 04


Pascagoula
Edgeward Draconis March
Federated Suns
One week later

"Paww! Paawww! There's a plane!"

While the crops were growing in the landscape only made barely arable by ancient terraforming era water channels, there was still much to do around the farm. Like most homesteads in the poor worlds, they tried to be as self-sufficient as much as possible.

Old Granpa Tucker stayed cool by the porch, puffing on his pipe. "Hoho, that aint' no reg'lar plane. I know that sound."

Suzanne ran back out, with Thomas Klering wiping his hands with a rag as he had been feeling slop to the pigs. The plane circled around the farm and then hovered in place. The rest of the family one by one went out to the front yard. The aircraft let out a dull roar as it slowly landed vertically.

A wave of kicked-up dust rolled towards the farm. Everyone coughed and shielded their faces.

"What is that?" Thomas asked.

"Aint' no airplane. That's a space plane!" said Grandpa Tucker. "I'da seen it in the holos. It's a lander that's smaller than a dropship an' bigger than a fighter! Dunno why they call it a Small Craft for some reason."

"So you think it's Davion?"

"Who else would give a crap, you think?" the old man cackled.

A small jeep rolled out from the back of the craft, and soon enough met up with the family. Two people stepped out, a man and a woman. The man was tall and dressed in green military fatigues. The woman was wearing a crisp orange pants-suit. They were both wearing sunglasses.

"Good morning! Is this the homestead of the Klering family?" the woman asked as she approached, taking out a noteputer pad.

"It is," Thomas answer.

"Excellent!" She marked down something on the pad, then held out a hand. She had fingerless gloves on. "Vivian Waters, Vagabond Instructor. Happy to meet you."

"Uh, Thomas Klering. Same, I reckon." They shook hands.

The man pressed a fist to his chest and bowed slightly. "Corporal John Merot, Support Division, Eridani Light Horse."

Thomas was unsure of how to receive the gesture, so just imitated it. He asked "Well then, may I ask what brings you folks here? Good news I hope?"

"Indeed, Mister Klering! Your child was lucky enough to be selected to the first round of the De Berry Vagabond School, school year of 3025-3026. Is Suzanne Klering present?"

"That's me! That's me!" the girl raised her hand excitedly.

"Aww fooey!" Timothy huffed.

"Congratulations!" Tucker Second rubbed that top of Suzanne's head. The girl slapped at his calloused hands indignantly.

The instructor continued "The selection process is completely random and does not take into consideration any educational aptitude. However, this is not very relevant, as it is the philosophy of the Vagabond Schools that every child has the potential to be good at something. These nine months build a foundation that would allow them to find their specialization."

Suzanne looked up and then nervously sidled up to her mother's side. "Do I gotta leave now?"

"Haha, not yet. Please take another five days to prepare. After this, it will be another nine months before you can come home. We will periodically be able to send holos on a monthly basis though as the jumpships go on rotation."

"Tch. Good luck, I guess," Timothy muttered. He crossed his arms and bit his lip. "Werent expectin' anything to happen anyhoos."

Suzanne glanced at him, then to her parents looking down at her with more worry than pride. She would be going away all by herself to a strange place with new strange people. Only now was it becoming clear to her how… scary that would be. At thirteen years old, she was no longer a child and had formed her personality, but being the sole girl in a distant farm meant that she was ill-socialized with other girls.

"Can I just… could someone have someone else go?"

"The 'ticket', as is stands, is non-transferrable, I am sorry." The instructor shook her head and smiled gently. "That is why biometrics and brain patterns were taken. Next time though, children who are already registered won't need to stand in line anymore. There's always next year."

Suzanne licked her lips. She reached out into her pocket and brought out a card. "Even if… I have this?"

The card stated: NEUROHELMET COMPATIBILITY: 94.6%.

Thomas glanced over, quickly snapped the card from her hand and read it. His face clouded over with fury. "I see! This is what you were after?! You cheats! I won't allow it!"

"Ah, sir. This is a coincidence, a coincidence! Even if that were so, parental permission is still required, so no one is ever really obligated to sign up to any military-"

"Get out of here, you child thieves!"

The ELH soldier stepped up protectively in front of the instructor. He bellowed "COOL YOUR HEAD!"

He grabbed Thomas Klering's outstretched arm by the wrist. "SINCE WHEN DO YOU THINK THE SLDF WOULD BE SO DESPERATE AS TO RIP CHILDREN AWAY FROM THE ARMS OF THEIR PARENTS?!" He pushed, letting go, and the farmer stepped unsteadily backwards.

The ELH man hissed out "Think clearly, man! Even if she spends nine months being told all sorts of things designed to get her to sign up - it does not matter. She is still too young anyway. She will not be able to sign up without your approval. If we just wanted to steal children, why bother with all this show? It would be much easier to just raid orphanages! How many starving families do you think would be happy to give up their children at least in the hope they would have a better and more structured life?"

The soldier waved to the farm behind the family. "You own your own land, with your own home. You are in your own way, privileged, but limited by the conditions of your homeworld. It is *fine* if other people fight for your sake. Pay your taxes and support the Federated Suns, only we ask you do not insult the honor of those ready to die for your safety.

"The SLDF only takes the willing and most determined. We need people willing and ready to fight, not just any random child!"

Thomas glared up hatefully, then took a deep breath. He pushed down anger at being overpowered, called out as wrong, and humiliated in front of his family. "All right. I was maybe out of line there. You promise she comes back?"

The ELH soldier stepped aside, and the instructor warily answered "It's like a boarding school. Boarding schools are not unusual. She will be safe and well taken care of, don't worry."

Now Suzanne jutted out her chin and muttered mulishy "I could fight. Can't girls join the SLDF? Don't tell me I can't fight. Chase your dreams, you said! Ow!"

Timothy rapped the top of her head with his knuckles. The girl rubbed at her crown and scowled. The boy looked up to ask "Can I join up next year? The SLDF has more than just mechwarriors, right? Even if I don't pass the test?"

"Not without your parent's permission, no," was the answer.

"Enough of this tomfoolery!" Thomas growled at his son.

"Barnacles!" the boy muttered in defeat.

"That being said, sir - we do need proof of your approval that Suzanne Klering will take part in the first batch. Slots are very limited, so we need you to sign off on this. Any cancellations ought to be done early so people on the alternative list can slot in."

Thomas looked down at his daughter. "It's up to you, girl."

Suzanne pursed her lips. "I guess I'll go then."

"Wonderful." The instructor passed the noteputer over. "Please sign here."

The ELH soldier then coughed into his fist.

"All right then. We are now only informing you of this so that it does not unduly influence your decision as if we were trying to bribe you or something like that. On behalf of the Ministry of Ways and Means, we are pleased to inform you that you have also won the Industrial Mech lottery."

He flicked open a small handheld holo projector, showing the prize. "Unfortunately, it is not the Ruralmech, but the Ergomech should still be useful on the farm."

Beeping noises came from the Small Craft. Slowly the egg-shaped utility mech slid out on rails and hoisted up to a standing position. A forklift began moving it out onto dry ground.

"The Ergomech - the ergo is intentional, it is not a mistake for agro - is a general-purpose ultralight industrial is capable of using a Combine harvester or Chainsaw attachment, and contains a Sprayer for irrigation or firefighting. It can carry through a system of pulleys and baskets up to half its own weight. It is 15 tons and capable of running up to fifty-four kilometers per hour, and protected by three tons of Heavy Industrial armor."

"Uoooh!" Timothy yelped and pumped his fist with glee. "I remember that! It's better cos it has arms!" He turned to Tucker the Second. "Bro! This is good! This is really good!"

Thomas grimaced. "Is it also fusion powered? Can I… refuse?"

"Paw, come on!" Timothy begged.

"Yes, it is. And yes, you can. But sir, would you care to guess what is the actual production cost of a 45-rated Fusion Engine that weighs a single ton?" the ELH soldier asked.

"Do I have to answer?" Thomas Klering sighed. "I don't want to play any more games."

"One million!" Suzanne chirped.

"Too high!" Timothy crowed. "One- one hundred thousand!"

The ELH officer smiled. "Forty-five thousand. It's the cheapest part of the agromech apart from the three-ton foamed metal endoskeleton. Even the myomers and the motors combined should cost forty-six thousand from the factory. Just because something is fusion-powered does not make it that much more valuable over a combustion engine counterpart. It is more convenient, yes, because then you can siphon power out of it for centuries instead of a power plant, but fusion engines aren't lostech."

"Ain't mechs expensive though? How much would this agromech really cost us, new?" asked Tucker the Second.

The ELH officer shrugged. "Somewhere around eight hundred thousand?"

Thomas Klering began choking and spitting on thin air. "What?!"

"Mechs of all types are expensive," the ELH officer mused. "We would probably be only three hundred fifty k down the hole if we just gave you a tank or something."

"What is wrong with you people? Are you just that rich?"

"Sir, we are the SLDF."

-.

-.

Pascagoula
Federated Suns
Date unknown

'Oh Blessed Blake, please intercede for a miracle. May my body spontaneously transmute into nitroglycerin that I might erase the universe of this sacrilege.'

Rocco Ali silently prayed.

"I'm diggin' a hole, diggy diggy hole. Diggy diggy hoole. Digging a hole~!"

Two Ruralmechs fitted out with backhoes instead of salvage arms were digging a trench that would eventually be part of a rebuilt sewer and water purification system. The ancient first-settlement-era systems had already collapsed over the centuries and were buried under so much sand, enough that redirecting the flow around the damaged sections towards the filtration plant would be significantly simpler and faster.

William Launder was, of course, singing that stupid song he managed to overhear from the ELH channels at some point. "You are not a dwarf," said Rocco Ali.

"You're no poncy elf, either. Only oh momma Jadwiga is pretty enough for that!" Launder responded through the radio. Then he went back to whistling and singing "I'm a working on the railroad, all the live-long daay~"

When the Eridani Light Horse said they were sending people out into the Outback to build things, they were being completely literal. At some point, Rocco Ali would have to accept that the Eridani Light Horse meant everything with deadly seriousness. But, as his mind recoiled, half of what they said was complete nonsense.

Reviving the SLDF? Unless they planned on fighting everybody everywhere all at once, that was an impossible dream and this cult-like behavior would only shatter and collapse on them as reality proved them wrong.

Said the agent from Comstar ROM inside his head.

He sighed. Damn if these civilianized Urbanmechs were nothing if not well-built though. Normally having the backhoe right up front in the middle would block the view and prevent the driver from seeing what they were digging. The Ruralmech had an extensive camera system filling up its roomy cockpit. More than that however, it had a completely passive optical periscoping system for viewing blocked angles. The machine was a mix of redundancies both hightech and lowtech.

He closed his eyes and remembered how he got to this point:

-.

Two weeks ago

It was not unusual for a DroST to be new. The design has clones and variants in the civilian sector. Someone refitting one back into military service instead of a Leopard variant was… fine. A new JumpShip however-

"This is blasphemy," he muttered under his breath, seeing the Eridani Light Horse logo superimposed over the Cameron Star of the Star League.

"Seems pretty normal for the course," mentioned William Launder.

"One. Why are you still hanging around with me? I am not your friend. Two. Explain, idiot."

"I am from the Periphery, you know? We don't consider the Star League to the same sacred heights you folks in the Inner Sphere do. Hmf. A bunch of prideful ponies sounds just about right."

"I am going to punch you now."

"Violence between blood brothers is forbideeeeeen!" the bronzed mechwarrior screamed as he swam in zero-g, pushing and bumping into others ahead. Annoyed 'hey!'s followed, until stopped with a sudden thump as he was face-slammed into the bulkhead. Jadwiga Winter drifted back.

The woman glanced back and people raised approving thumbs up at her. Look at the lance leader enforcing discipline. Good job.

-.

Everything in the JumpShip was new. There were areas that they were not allowed to enter, of course. The berths were clean and the 90-meter grav deck could accommodate everyone. There were enough beds to accommodate 150 people.

The ship had a bunch of robots. They were strange and oddly sassy. Robots were not lostech however. A Scout was small enough that it could be effectively crewed by just five people. Animatronics for entertainment and servile roles were still used in some high-class functions and parts back on Terra. It was a waste of time and volume for a robot to act like a bartender instead of a vending machine dispensing mixed drinks, but looked significantly more interesting.

Someone had decided to give the automatic functions some real-world interface out of… boredom, he guessed?

-.

Normally it should take two months to reach the outback region that just happened to border upon the Federated Suns, Draconis Combine and the Outworld Alliance. The recruits had to go back to their dropships in preparation for the jump, and they were confined to their quarters in the windowless holds.

After the jump, the dropships detached. Rocco Ali felt the orienting maneuvers in zero-g, and the DroST IIA thrusted at half-a-gee for about half an hour before flipping backwards to zero its relative velocity and hook up to another JumpShip.

Instead of waiting another week, if there just happened to be another ship heading along the way, then a dropship could travel a distance much sooner than expected from a single ship that needs to recharge.

The dropship clutched into a new collar, and was brought along in a jump.

That was sixty light-years traveled almost immediately, two jumps out of the expected eight.

But still they were not done. The dropship detached again, maneuvered again, and clamped onto another jumpship that for some convenient reason, was already ready to jump.

And then again.

That was four jumps out of eight and halfway there, in the span of a day.

Then they were allowed back into the JumpShip. The layout and the robots were identical. He and the others tried to look for any markings they left, but it was a different ship with a different crew.

So - a coincidence. Or Davion thought this was important enough to set up a command circuit and wasting valuable time for jumpships just to wait around in place in advance. Or, because Scouts unlike other jumpships can thrust at .2g by themselves, it could have been some shell game to hide the fact that these JumpShips had Lithium Fusion Batteries enabling them to jump twice in succession?

They spent a week in space just idling along and working the simulators, before again being moved to their dropships.

Another jump, five of eight.

Switch to another ship, jump, six of eight.

This time they docked to a common Invader-class JumpShip, and going from the pristine white walls of the Scout II to an old rustbucket was piquant. There were smells that he had not realized he had grown used to from space travel, that were absent in the environmental controls of a new-build. Their reintroduction was almost enough to make them gag.

Going from a 90-meter diameter gravdeck to a 65-meter one felt confining and the amusements in the old machine were starkly limited. Sleeping in zero-g, exercising daily to keep up muscle mass, everything other than passage had to be paid for, and old holos and tepid drinks and games of cards and dice made the week pass by agonizingly slowly.

The dropship detached after the jump and latched onto another ship. Seven of eight. That ship jumped again almost immediately. Eight of eight.

They were allowed to get back inside the ship for some refreshments before burning towards De Berry. They were once again inside an ELH Scout II JumpShip. The contrast between the old and the new felt like coming home.

-.

Rocco Ali grit his teeth. This ship, he had to admit through rising anger and terror, was optimized for long-duration cruising. This was a new build for a group that knew what they were doing. Destroying the Eridani Light Horse for their blasphemous delusion would not solve the problem - it was their backers and what they would do next that was the question.

Could they really have been reactivated by Kerensky's SLDF?

There was another thing that needled him. Everything about the ELH's space navy was painted flat matte white. Comstar white.

Until he had an idea of where the Eridani Light Horse was getting all this gear, it was best to just play along.

-.

Now

Which brought him back to the sweltering heat of Pascagoula. Or rather, the cool air-conditioning of a Ruralmech. A fusion power plant and its heatsinks was just overkill for this.

Why a fusion powered industrial mech? Because, he guessed, it was a waste of cargo to carry petrochemicals across interstellar space when landing on a fresh untapped world. Build the petrochemical industry *first* before trying to cheap out on ICE-powered vehicles.

This technology revealed much about an expeditionary philosophy, and the Eridani Light Horse did not even care. It was clear they wanted this information to get out. And because of that, Rocco Ali had to consider that his conclusions were wrong and being deliberately aimed.

But then what would be the alternative?

He looked back to the other members of the lance. Jadwiga Winter and Orsino Buana were weaving together steel rebar. Ferrocrete, the standard material for construction in the Inner Sphere, resilient enough to withstand landings by multi-thousand-ton dropships and being jumped upon by BattleMechs, was more than just reinforced concrete. It was rebar and fiber-reinforced concrete.

The Ruralmech's 5-ton rear storage could accommodate a mixer and the liquid sprayer could be used to squirt shotcrete as easily as it could spit out water or paint.

He had to put aside thoughts of sabotage or assassination for now. Everyone too was playing along, playing lip service to that whole 'we are the SLDF' fantasy until they could know more.

"I'm a barbie girl, in a barbie wooorld~!" Launder continued to sing. "Life in plastic, it's fantastic~!"

Rocco Ali grit his teeth again. For a given value of playing along.