INTERLUDE 2

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The Colonel: Yeah, well, we'll what she gets in the future *wink*wink*


Dropship Argo,
Ashio System, Ashio Prefecture,
Dieron Military District, Draconis Combine,
January 3, 3074

Dultom Markham didn't like dealing with fanatical sects. They were single-minded, overly zealous about trivial things, self-centered, and derogating those who didn't share their beliefs. A few of them, like the Word of Blake, took their fanaticism to the next level by nuking everybody that didn't adhere to the words of Jerome Blake. There were times, in his long years of mercenary career, that the Inner Sphere was just a simple place, where greed was the only common denominator. No more. Fanatics like the Clans and the Word of Blake turned the Inner Sphere into a spiritual wasteland so bad he thought of retiring from mercenary life.

There was one problem: the Word of Blake paid mercenaries abundantly.

Standing in the command center of his decrepit dropship Argo, accompanied by his lieutenant Captain Darius Oliveira, Dultom watched the mug shot of a gaunt middle-aged man materialized in the middle of the holo-projector. His arrogant stare, draped in white robe, made Dultom want to throw up. But he made a mental note that that repulsive attitude came with a lot of c-bills. And as a veteran mercenary, Dultom welcomed any kind of c-bills.

"Lieutenant Colonel Dultom Markham," the hologram spoke haughtily. "Your punctuality amuses me."

"I have been in this business for a long time, Precentor Mordecai," Dultom replied halfheartedly. "Punctuality makes customers happy. Happy customers leave big tip."

"It's always about money, isn't it, mercenary scum?" the precentor spat. "I cherish the time you burn in hell with your money."

"Yet you came to me flashing c-bills on my face," Dultom growled with a triumphant smirk on his lips. "Admit it, Precentor, you are as lavish as anybody else in the Inner Sphere when it comes to money. So why don't we skip the pleasantries and go straight down to business? We're on a tight schedule."

The precentor's face disappeared from the hologram, which turned into the overhead map of planet Ashio. "Like we stated in the contract, Word of Blake Protectorate is looking forward to expanding to Ashio Prefecture in Draconis Combine. The first step would be to occupy Ashio. Yet the infidels in Ashio resist the amalgamation into Word of Blake Protectorate."

"Who wouldn't?" Darius leaned toward Dultom and whispered under his breath.

"So we're going to send the Markham Marauders to Ashio to 'convince' the people that their future is with the Word of Blake Protectorate. We expect this amalgamation to take place in a month's time, although by your reputation, I wouldn't be surprised if you wrap this up below budget. Use any persuasive means necessary. Defending parties are expected to be light. Local militia and Sun Zhang Cadre should be no match for the Markham Marauders. However, Word of Blake intelligence reported there are some elements of 13th Legion of Vega with undisclosed mission. Expect heavy firefight with that one, but still, they should give you no problem.

"Rule of engagement is simple: anything is fair game, including non-combatants."

"You want us to hit civilians?" Darius interjected. "That'll cost you extra."

"Need I remind you that the Word of Blake chose Markham's Marauders because of your exploits during the Aurigan Campaign, Captain Oliveira?" the precentor snarled. "You didn't care where the casualties came from, even though House Arano didn't pay you that much!"

"Let me reiterate what my XO implied," Dultom replied. "There are two ways we will conduct this mission. One, the nobility way. We'll wipe out whatever force defending Ashio. It's the safe way but it may take time. Two, the infamy way. We'll use the civilians as our bargaining chip to force the weak-minded government to surrender. But civilians are protected by Ares Convention. We could lose our license with MRBC. We'll charge you extra to compensate the risk of losing our business."

"We do not renegotiate the contract!" Precentor Mordecai growled. "You are not getting a c-bill more than what is stated!"

"The contract does not discuss rule of engagement," Dultom maintained his composure. "Now that you're giving us freedom to observe alternatives, we're giving you options. You want to stick to the contract? Then expect the result as stated in the contract. You wanna better result? You gotta show me the money. It's all there is to it."

The map disappeared from the holo-projector, and for a few minutes, there was nothing but static. Then Precentor Mordecai popped up, exuding affront but helplessness in the matter from his eyes. "Show me results, and I'll authorize more payment!"

"You can expect the best from Markham's Marauders," Dultom said with a smirk. "We will not disappoint you."

"I expect to hear from you within a month… or less!" Mordecai sneered in disgust. "Until then, do not attempt to contact me! And don't think you can backstab Word of Blake for more money! We regard loyalty very seriously. You can expect a rain of fire pouring down on you if you even try to breach contract! Good day, mercenary!" With that, the connection cut off.

"Fanatic asshole!" Dultom snorted.

"You're playing with fire," Darius pointed out. "These people are capable of nasty shits. Look what they did at Outreach. And Tharkad. And anywhere else."

"I've dealt with people capable of nastier shits than these bastards, and I'm still in the business," Dultom scoffed. "Leave the business to me. Your job is to shape our crews into combat-ready mechwarriors. Set up simulator shifts and rotate the mechwarriors so none of them have time to frolic. We'll combat-drop in a week. I want them to be ready."

"Yes, Sir," Darius snapped a short salute.

"I gotta go see Yang, see where he is with our hardwares," Dultom said as he walked out of the command center. He sorted through a series of corridors and stairs to arrive at the mech bay. The spacious room held 12 battlemechs, all being secured in docking bays. All of them were heavy to assault class with the exception of a Bushwacker and a Lineholder, which he occasionally used as scouts despite their below-average speed for reconnaissance.

His intention was to find Yang Virtanen, the chief tech of the Markham's Marauder, but he let himself be distracted by the visceral image of his own mech. A 95-ton BSK-MAZ Bull Shark, the brainchild of Clan Wolverine during its heyday, highlighted the otherwise dimly lit hangar. It was a massive brawler armed to the teeth, with a Thumper Cannon jutted out from the back as its primary weapon. An LB-10X and a UAC5 on each arm served as back up batteries, and 4 medium lasers rounded up the arsenal.

"It's nice to see you mechwarriors in the hangar when you're not rushing to the cockpits," Yang said sarcastically as he stood by Dultom. "What brings you down here, Boss?"

"How is she?" Dultom replied without taking his eyes from the Bull Shark.

"What do you expect? She's hundreds of years old. She's old and cranky. But she's holding up, and she has a few more years to do whatever it is you want her to do."

"We got a mission, and I'm not expecting heavy action," Dultom smiled. "Maybe even 'soft' targets."

"'Soft' targets. We haven't had that since Aurigan," Yang chuckled. "Incendiary shells, then?"

"Definitely," Dultom smiled. "But throw in a ton of the regular clustered munitions, just in case."

"I know they're your favorite," Yang wrote something on his notepad. "Any other special order?"

"No, Yang. You're doing a good job keeping her together. Keep up the good work."

"Alright, I'll get it set up. In the mean time, feel free to wander around to inspect the rest of the mechs. Or, you know, hang out with the techs, something that you mechwarriors seem too embarrassed to do."

As Yang left, Dultom spent a few minutes marvelling the Bull Shark. He never got tired looking at it. A one-of-a-kind monster, he affectionately called it Jormungandr, after the legendary sea serpent in Norse mythology. And aptly so. Many battlemechs had fallen dead in a contest of domination with the Jormungandr. And even though both of them were getting old, Dultom looked forward to having a few more duels before he calling it a career.

"Soon, Baby," he whispered. "Soon, we'll graze the battlefield again, like the old days."