3

Seven months later the first of the jumpships that Stephan had purchased finally arrived, carrying with it some of the smaller items he'd ordered from offworld and arranged to be picked up enroute. The crew of the soon to be renamed Merchant-class jumpship had been hired by a professional broker in the Defiance System, along with crews for the two Union-class dropships that he'd also bought along with it. Altogether, the jumpship and the two dropships had a combined cargo capacity of a little over 2,100 tons, for these Unions were not configured to haul mechs, but cargo.

When it came to transporting goods from one system to another, 2,100 tons was pathetically small, which is why trade routes typically saw a lot of these vessels moving about, along with larger versions of jumpships that had more carry capacity. As it was, once refitted to haul mechs, the pair of Unions would be able to transport and service 12 mechs each, meaning two Companies that he didn't presently have. Onboard however, stored in cargo crates, were supposed to be a pair of mechs along with a host of supplies to upgrade them and the mech bay in the Estate that currently consisted of a few large tents.

At least both dropships were able to land at the Estate, with two pads fully constructed and a third in the works. Stephan and Sarah both went to meet and interview the dropship Captains in person. They'd been hired on a provisional two year contract, but it would be up to House Morten if they were to retain them beyond it, and having to hire people blind over the HPG net was not something either of them liked to do.

Jumpships and dropships…the civilian models anyway…fell under the Lord of Logistics department, and Sarah would be traveling with one of the dropships, the newly renamed Golden Pearl, up to the also renamed jumpship, the Alpha Strider, to repeat the process with the jumpship's crew.

However Stephan was glad to avoid the trip to the Zenith jump point, his main focus after finishing with the Red Pearl's crew assessment was helping Vander unpack the pair of mechs. By the time he got there, the Centurion had already been unboxed and hoisted into position via a crane into a makeshift gantry set around the back and both sides of it…though it was still standing on grass that hadn't completely died yet from lack of sun.

"Good to have at least something," Vander said as his recently acquired techs were already working on tearing off the armor and every other removeable part so they could begin the overhaul necessary to bring it up to House Morten standards. The Neubenn militia had more than 20 Centurions in its ranks, so the design was a familiar and reliable one that Vander could simply pull up the record of previous modifications they'd used rather than trying to have to customize something on an unfamiliar design.

"Even if it's just a toy at this point, I agree," Stephan said, standing a few meters away from the two giant metal feet, glancing up to make sure the crane still had a hold on it in case the grass and dirt weren't firm enough to keep it steady. "Is everything there?"

"We weren't cheated, if that's what you mean. But this baby has had a hard life by the looks of it, and she needs a good makeover. The techs I've got should be able to handle it, though it's gonna be slow going given what we've got to work with."

"There should be some equipment to help with that."

"Already got it, but it's not stuff we can set up here in the grass. It's going to have to wait until we get a proper mech bay built. But I should have this one up and walking around within a few days. The fusion core is completely empty, but we were prepared for that."

"The Duke has offered the use of his facilities. Are we going to need them?"

"If you're in a rush, yes. But we can handle this on our own. The pieces of a decent tech unit are coming together here. Most of them, though, have never worked on anything other than industrial mechs, but that mastertech you brought in from Alcyone is worth the cost it took to get him here," the Lord of Military Operations said in a whisper. "Just don't let him know that. He's already far too arrogant."

"Good to hear," Stephan said, looking up at the Centurion. "The first part," he amended.

"Been too long out of the seat?"

"Until just now I would have said no. You?"

"It's weird finally having one that we actually own. I always assumed the others were ours, but they went with the duchy. This one belongs to the House now, and if someone wants it they're going to have to pry it out of our hands the old fashioned way."

"Let's hope not," Stephan said, thumbing back towards the other unopened crate in the large tent. "What about the Hunchback?"

"Don't have enough crew or workspace to handle both at the same time. She'll just sit there until later, unfortunately. Thought you'd prefer the Centurion first?"

"You thought right," Stephan said, for it was one of the three mech variants he was moderately good with. The Hunchback was not one he had ever rode in, but its urban style fighting was better suited for defending the Estate's growing number of buildings and other infrastructure. "Do we have what we need for the face shields?"

"Yeah, Sarah took care of it. But Killis hates the idea of it. Rambled on with the usual drivel about no mechwarrior would be willing to pilot it. Nothing we haven't heard before. He'll get it done within the month."

"I still want to take her out before then. Nobody should be shooting at us here…yet."

"We've got the patrol trails already cut. You can take a nice hike in her in a few days. I'll wait for the Hunchback."

"You claiming it?"

"No, but I wouldn't mind breaking her in. I like the design…just not the combat profile. At least not out in the open. Should work well in the forest."

"Well, until we get a real pilot for her, consider her temporarily yours. But this one is definitely mine," he said, eyeing the Centurion. "Mine, mine, mine."

"Rank has its privileges," Vander noted, staring up at the cockpit appreciatively.

"Occasionally yes," Stephan agreed. And this was one of those times.

4 months later…

Stephan climbed the Centurion over the peak of the mountain ridge that bisected the Embassy Estate, pausing at the top of the dirt trail near an observation tower that was unmanned, but yet another recent construction in the ever growing enterprises of House Morten. After relying exclusively on hired labor, they'd successfully recruited a small construction crew of their own and were using them…in addition to local companies…to continue to expand their base of operations to now 18 buildings, not counting small stuff like this tower.

It was made of wood and some metal sheeting for a roof, and the very definition of 'temporary,' but when it was House Morten doing it, even the temporary stuff had to be top notch in design and execution. Meaning the tower's base had a small barracks, restroom, kitchenette, and comms room, the latter of which hadn't received any equipment yet.

His parked Centurion stood almost as tall as the tower, and both had magnificent views of the two valleys that he now owned, which ran northwest to southeast. The manor and the rest of the residential buildings were at the bottom of the western valley, a few kilometers up from where it met a larger river that doubled as a lake at some points. The road to the rest of civilization on this planet headed east after it came out of the valley, but kept more than two kilometers away from the Nigalle River, named after one of the first settlers on this planet. If Stephan had owned it, it would have been renamed by now.

With all the division within the Inner Sphere, unity…wherever you could find it…was at a premium, and his House had long ago set as one of their primary goals to keep the House together. They taught their children from a very young age that they should quest for more power as a group rather than individuals. It was both the honorable way, and they'd probably have a better chance of success than trying to step on each other as they played the age old noble game of power-grabbing.

Little things like names, the Mortens had learned, made a difference. For example, all 9 of his parent's children had names starting with the letter 'S.' Sarah was the oldest, then Stephan, then Siri, and Sonna, and Stan, etc. It was a family tradition that their various cousins also held to, which immediately created a sense of unity…and unit designation…when you heard one of their names. But they all carried the name of Morten unless they went passive. If they did, it wouldn't affect them or their children or their grandchildren. But if none of them chose to serve in an active function, the family benefits…and the family name…ended with the great grandchildren. They'd take the name of the spouse, and there would end that noble lineage.

Which meant House Morten kept its family tree neatly trimmed, and it applied the same precision and forethought to other endeavors beyond just naming. Still, the two valleys here had been named for clarity sake. He had just come from the one with the manor in it, which designated as 'Home Valley' while the one he was looking out into now was 'Prime Valley.' There wasn't any plans to buy more land and expand here, otherwise they would have gone with another name. They were certainly going to fill both up with buildings, training grounds, and maybe a small factory or two other than the mech bay facilities, which were intact enough to shelter their now 6 battlemechs, didn't have the full support buildings attached yet.

Those were to include a fabrications facility for small machine parts and even a casting dome where they would fabricate and poor new armored plates. But what they had here now was enough to get all 6 mechs inside, with the other four still undergoing rework. Only the Centurion and Hunchback were operation, but he feared the others would be ready long before their new crew of trainees, most of whom were failing pathetically in the two simulators Kevin had acquired as he started the House Morten Training Academy out of a simple ferrocrete warehouse with makeshift living facilities inside.

Some of the 16 trainees were raw recruits from Cholis. Others were brought in from offworld military academies not located too far away. They weren't top of the line schools, but he said they were decent enough to lay a baseline for the training he would be giving them. But even then he could only get some of the mid-level students there to sign on and come all the way out here, so he wasn't quite working with the bottom of the barrel, but he was definitely in the lower half of it.

Stephan sighed, looking out on Prime Valley through a camera viewscreen. It didn't have quite the same majestic feeling of seeing it with your own eyes, but after several tragic events in the House's history with mechwarriors being killed by lucky or even precise cockpit shots, they'd decided to put armor over them and rely on multiple cameras mounted on the exterior to replace the view.

Most mechwarriors hated the idea, which was one of many reasons why Kevin was recruiting newbs who didn't know any better, and many refused to get into a cockpit they could not see out of naturally. But to Stephan's upper right was a caged button. Pull the cage off it and one press would ignite small charges that would blow the attachments for the armor off and it would slide down revealing the original cockpit window…in case every single one of the cameras went offline.

Stephan had been piloting mechs this way his whole life and hadn't known anything else. In training when they were taught to fight without the armor plating…just in case…he felt naked and exposed to random chance for his survival rather than his skill. Whatever dulling of perceptional awareness other mechwarriors claimed came from the camera views, he agreed that it was worth it if it saved a single mechwarrior from a wasteful, unlucky hit death.

The 'face shields' were something the Neubenn militia had been mocked for, but his House didn't care. Having a weak spot on a mech was just not good tactics, and this way, at least they'd have protection until all the cameras were destroyed. Then it would be back to 'normal' anyway.

Stephan was about to start heading down the steep trail into Prime when he caught a glimpse of the Hunchback on his rear view camera, which was a secondary screen put down to his lower left that he could look at in a glance. He flicked on his radar and immediately got the confirmation ping, assuming it was Vander, but he'd thought he was going to be helping with the mechwarrior instruction today…namely by beating up the kids in the simulators.

"Vander, you give them the day off or something?" he asked, opening a mech to mech line with the touch of a preset button.

"No laddie, he's back with your recruits," a very familiar voice said.

Stephan keyed for an ID from the mech data, but it didn't show the pilot logged into the computer. The instantaneous ping should have resulted in an update from any of their own mechs.

"Say again, Hunchback?"

"Are you saying you don't recognize me accent?"

Stephan couldn't believe it. "Grady!"

"Who else?"

"How did you get here?"

"Came to your big house and Vander said you were out walking about aimlessly trying to find your purpose in life and that I should introduce meself personally."

Stephan spun and walked the Centurion back down Home Valley's hillside until he came within 20 meters of the Hunchback. "Why aren't you still on Neubenn?"

"Not welcome there anymore, laddie. Me and at least three of the others sent messages to ya, but got no response. Comstar said they'd been delivered, so we weren't sure what to make of it."

"How'd you know where to send them?"

"Oh, it was within the first year that one of the tabloids ran a story about you being exiled to some rock called Cholis, but nobody was sure if it was true or not until NeuNews confirmed it a few weeks later. So we wanted to see if you were in need of some slightly used militia out here. I dare to ask how welcome I am here?"

"Dumbest question you've ever asked you dirty old beard face."

"Hey, I'm not that old laddie."

"I never got your messages," Stephan said, icily angry for a moment before mentally checking it away as something to handle later. "But even if I did, I'm not allowed to send anything back to Neubenn and I'm not allowed to recruit from any of my former forces. How did you get leave to come out here?" he asked suspiciously.

"Leave? Ha. After I didn't follow orders as precisely as they liked they suspended me, then demoted me, and at that point I saw the writing on the wall and resigned. Two months later the entire militia was 'reorganized' for cost savings and some 40% were kicked out. Happened to be the lads who didn't take to the new Duke."

"A loyalty purge?" Stephan asked, his anger coming through crystal clear over the comm.

"Not officially, but somehow they also blacklisted everyone, so most of us couldn't even get worthwhile jobs in the civilian sector despite the fact businesses used to be clamoring for us to get out and take a big signing bonus with them. Now they won't touch us, and the boys have been doing grunge work wherever they can find it. I was paying the bills hauling fabric to and from a dress shop in a cargo sled, and I was lucky. Most of the fellas couldn't even get that."

"Son of a bitch," Stephan whispered, but loud enough that his friend could still hear. "I had no idea."

"I figured you didn't, but with you being kicked out of Neubenn like you were, I wasn't sure if you wanted to have anything to do with your old lads, so I volunteered to come out here and see for meself. We pooled our money to buy the one-way fare. If that new trade route hadn't magically appeared, I wouldn't have been able to afford to come half this far. You're out here in the boonies for sure, laddie."

"By design. Unless you fervently reject it, you're hired effective immediately."

"Well…if you insist and all. What about the other lads?"

"I'll figure out something. There's a Davion living in my guest house that I'm about to strangle. They were not supposed to block messages coming here, and the whole point of us being removed so completely was so House Derren would have all of you to work with. I shouldn't say I'm surprised, but I am. I thought he'd play nice for a while because the First Prince was looking over his shoulder."

"I can't speak to any of that. I just know, if you're willing, there's a lot of mechwarriors, aerobrats, and groundpounders who could be of use to you out here, even a lot of the techs got axed. What exactly are you doing out here, Stephan?"

"Getting set up to go warlord and pirate hunting," he said with a smirk. "And we're taking scalps."

Grady made a noise of confusion somewhere between a grunt and a hiccup. "What do ya mean 'scalps?'"

"Planets. We're taking their planets and keeping them. Not for the Federated Suns, but for ourselves. We're going into the Periphery to create an independent state, and even have the First Prince's limited help to do it. That new trade route you came on was his doing."

"Are…are you serious? I thought he was the vilest of the vile for deposing you?"

"He didn't give me a choice, but he offered compensation and we worked this deal out."

"And you're going pirate hunting with two mechs and a bunch of kids that even Sarah could take down?"

Stephan cringed. Sarah had gone through mechwarrior training…the basics anyway…and was just as bad at it as Grady made it sound. But to tell the truth, she could have taken all 16 of these trainees single handedly right now, for they could barely keep their simulated mechs walking in a straight line and look at the radar at the same time.

"Baby steps, Grady. Baby steps."

"That's a lot of steps if you ask me."

"It is. Good thing we just got you to add to the mix. At least now I've got one legit mechwarrior in the barn."

"It tis good to feel appreciated again."

"Is House Derren wrecking everything else too?"

"No, not from what I could tell. Everything seemed the same except for the militia…but maybe that's just me not being kept informed. It all happened real sudden like after the news broke where you were, but they were going to run me out anyway."

"They didn't appreciate your flexibility in interpreting orders?"

"Exactly," Grady said, with Stephan knowing precisely what that meant. The man had a knack for seeing what other people didn't, and he was not the type to blindly follow stupid orders. Give him a little leeway in them, and he was among the best in the Inner Sphere. Driving him out of the militia was yet another typical, bone-headed move by people who saw blind obedience as the only way to fight battles. The concept of 'adaptability' or 'improvisation' went right over their heads. All they saw were ego and command position.

House Derren was destroying Neubenn already…just like he'd told the First Prince they would.

"Have you had anything to eat yet?"

"I did grab a snack on the way through your big house."

"Good. Then let's walk the perimeter while I cool off a little and you tell me everything that's been going on back home. Then I'll go visit the Davion and try to let her breathe enough to get a few answers out of her."