6
Stephan stayed strapped in for the short ride in the dropship back to the Estate, then walked his mech out 5th in line as the victorious Company headed back to the mechbay. He had the most damage of them all, for the Wasps had rightly gone for the smaller of the two mechs than try and pound against the heavy in the pair, but it wasn't anything the techs couldn't fix in a matter of hours.
At the end of his trek he spun his back around and stepped backwards, careful of the distance to the gantry as he heard a cloud klang from elsewhere. He froze his Centurion for a moment, thinking he'd done it, but looked over and saw the massive Longbow had run into its own gantry trying to back.
Fortunately Chief Tech Killis Hargove had anticipated the problem and had his tech crews far away from any potential accidents, with them only coming up to the mechs that were already standing in place and powering down. The Longbow eventually righted itself, shuffling in place for several long moments, then it too shut down as Grady came in last and slid into his berth so silky smooth it made even Stephan cringe in jealously.
By the time he got his cooling vest unplugged, his neurohelmet off, and had crawled out of the cockpit to get a hit of cold air against his still sweaty body, Grady was already calling the rest of the mechwarriors over to him atop the main gantry that the other two spurs led to, in the center of the blocky 'U' shape they formed. He waved Stephan over as well.
"Alright, laddies, listen up. You've just been through your first real battle, and you survived it. Congratulations. You're mechwarriors now, albeit bad ones," he said, glaring at them. "I'm not gonna lie to you. If this had been an even fight, I wouldn't be talking to half of you right now for sure. It's an accomplishment, but don't let it go to your heads."
"What I do want to hammer into yer little skulls is the fact that mismatched battles like this are what we want. We don't want to test our skills in an even fight. We're not going into battle to do that. You're not doing it to get paid either. You're a part of House Morten now, and while your pulses are still raised and adrenaline is lingering in your veins, I want you to know what that means. We didn't have to fight. We could have just let them hit the spaceport. It wasn't our job to defend it. We don't own this planet. This isn't our duchy. We could have just sat here and watched as that light militia Company got obliterated or was forced to run and let the bandits take whatever they wanted, hoping they didn't also knock down a few city blocks for the fun of it."
"But that's not going to happen around House Morten. We interfere," he said, emphasizing the word. "We intervene. We stick our nose in other people's business when there's a righteous fight to be had. We're protectors, not predators. And we don't give a damn about politics or economics or religion or tradition. None of that matters when it comes up against doing the right thing. We did the right thing today, laddies. Remember that feel. It's the lifeblood of House Morten. I remember the first time I felt it. I joined House Morten when I was only 26 years old, but that was after spending some 6 years as a mercenary," he told them for the first time. "We fought to get paid, some to get glory, some to prove themselves. It was never about doing the right thing. Something about that bothered me. Assaulting some factory or military base simply because we were told to…to get a pay check," he said, eyeing them in a way they knew that would be unacceptable behavior.
"I didn't know better back then, except the pit of me stomach never feeling quite right. When I had a chance to sign on with a big name House that never did anything other than defensive assignments…which many a mercenary mocked…I still didn't understand until I was assigned to help another world. It wasn't even House Morten's. It was a small noble family on a world much like this one. We had a unit that would go out and help where we expected there to be fights. To both give the House Militia real battle experience, and to help those that the ol Davions and other major Houses didn't care about too much."
"The first time I defended one of those worlds against a mercenary unit sent by who knows to attack the major corporation on the planet. The one that was feeding most people with their paychecks and that the planet relied upon to survive. When we fought those mercenaries…and it was a rough fight because they underestimated us 'pacifist' House Mortens…that pit in me stomach unclenched and blossomed into the light of righteousness. We were doing the right thing, they were doing the wrong thing, and it felt so damn good. It felt the way it was supposed to feel. That day, I knew I'd never leave House Morten. Because that's the way all their fights are. Even the losses, few as they have been. Why we fight matters more than anything. More than who ends up winning."
"We fight to protect, not to plunder, and not to prove who is the better mechwarrior. So whenever we can get a lopsided fight, we're gonna take it, laddies. It's not a sign of weakness or cowardness. It's us doing our job and not messing around. If you want to prove how good you are, you do it in a simulator. When you're in a real mech's cockpit going into battle where you and your fellow laddies might not come back, you can't afford to have an ego. But you can have pride. Pride in that you're fighting the righteous fight. And I can tell you from experience, that kind of pride is more powerful than an ego could ever hope to be."
"You had a righteous battle today, laddies. Be proud of that and continue to learn and grow. Increase the mismatch, not just in mechs, but in skills as well. Get it as lopsided in your favor as possible. That's how we protect people. If we're weaker than the bad guys, then bad…nay, horrible stuff happens. Atrocities are the norm in the Inner Sphere. House Morten is one of the few specks of light in the whole mess, and it's our job to spread that light. The people at the spaceport and the militia mechwarriors, plus many a people in the city are alive and safe right now because of us. How many we'll never know. But if we weren't there today, it would have been dark. Very dark, even if just for one person. We are the light that fights back the darkness that is forever trying to crush our civilization. That battle never ends, but there are victories and defeats happening every damn day. Today was victory, but don't let that be a cause for partying. Nay. Realize how much further we have to go, and let today be a relief instead."
"A relief that none of our people died. A relief that the spaceport and the militia still stand. You weren't ready for this, but because of the mismatch an atrocity was avoided. Now that you've had a taste of the real thing, let that remind you to keep learning, keep growing, and do so as fast as you can, or some of the future battles might be even ones, or even ones where we're at a disadvantage. You can't change that in the moment, but you can change it in the past. Today is tomorrow's past. So be proud of what you've done today. Get some food and some rest. Training continues tomorrow and I better not find any of you with even a whiff of partying on your breath," he said, knowing that every now and then some of the newer members of House Morten tried to sneak alcohol in from any of the neighboring towns, despite it not being allow on the Estate or in the stomachs of anyone who worked here.
"House Morten," Nathan Chadwich said, raising his arm in the air. He'd been the pilot of the Longbow.
The others raised their fists and repeated it as a chant, with Grady joining in and eventually all eyes turning to Stephan…who let them finish, then raised his own hand fist clenched, and repeated it one time.
"House Morten," he said calmly, yet loudly, as if affirming their claim, which they immediately repeated him in a unified roar.
"Dismissed," Grady bellowed, with all the mostly shorter mechwarriors scurrying off across the catwalk to the door that led further into the mechbay base.
"I didn't realize you were a speech-maker."
"They needed to hear it," Grady said, stroking his brown/red beard ominously. "But we won because those bastards had no clue we were even on the planet. It's no secret anymore."
"No, it's not. It'll not just hit the local news, but it'll probably make it all the way back to Neubenn. At least in the tabloids."
"What are you going to do with the prisoners?"
Stephan blew out a deep breath. "Have a chat and see how it goes."
"Mind if I tag along?"
"We both need a shower first. Roger's taking them to the security office. Glad we put a few cells in there just in case."
"When do you figure on heading over?"
"Give me a couple hours then meet me there. The sight of your grizzly face might convince them to talk."
"That's 'manly face,' laddie. If you ever stopped shaving so damn close, you might look like one too instead of passing for one of the taller trainees."
"How'd I do today?"
"You got focused instead of me, and they didn't take you down. I'd say that's good enough. I was surprised they pressed so far with our mechs coming out of the dropship in plain sight. Worst case of tunnel vision I ever did see. How'd your first real fight feel?"
"Like I was about to go down to some ankle biters."
"Trick is to zig and zag so they don't know where to position themselves. When they reverse direction, that's when you get a quick decent shot."
"I didn't land a single autocannon."
"I saw some laser hits that weren't mine."
"I missed a lot."
"So it wasn't as pretty as you imagined?"
Stephan smiled sheepishly. "I've done better in training matches."
"Bandits have a different way of thinking about combat. Sometimes it helps them, other times it burns them. They're predators. You're a defender and you got swarmed, but you didn't crumble. If you hadn't been there, they could have focused all the fire on me. That could have been tricky. You took most of the hits for the both of us."
Stephan smirked. "Is that why you wanted me in the smaller mech?"
"I wanted you in a familiar one. You didn't stand still and shoot in circles like a trainee would. I have no complaints about your performance. But if you were expecting to pilot as well as me…"
Stephan held up his hands in surrender. "Ego busted, and replaced with a healthy dose of reality. I hope the same is true for them."
"I don't think most of them took any damage. That's another reason I wanted to lecture them a bit. Can't let them think they've got some immunity shield protecting them."
"At least they didn't chase them into the dropship's fire zone," Stephan said with a cringe.
"Aye, there's that. Good foundation though for their future. Let's take the victory for what it is and move on. Two hours you said?"
"Two hours," Stephan confirmed, walking the opposite way the trainees had went. He was going to shower back in his quarters rather than here.
When he got to the security office on the Estate…one now run by Roger since he'd been promoted from his personal bodyguard to Chief of Security for the entire Estate…he found the two prisoners being held in different cells. One was furious at having been left behind and was spilling her guts on the Red Baron. The other wasn't saying a word.
Stephan listened from a nearby office with a link into both cells as Vander questioned the woman, Sandra Hachney, who had been within minutes of reaching the dropships and out of reach of the House Morten mechs when they had simply ignored her and lifted off anyway. Roger was with the other prisoner, the one from the downed Centurion that wouldn't stop running even when a battlemech stomped nearby ordering him to. Stephan wasn't surprised that that kind of man would refuse to divulge information, and after calling Vander out for a moment to speak with him about the woman, Stephan opened the door and walked into the holding cell for the man, finding a small table with the mechwarrior handcuffed to the center of it, and Roger sitting on the opposite side along with two security guards flanking either wall.
His friend wasn't taking any chances, it seemed.
All eyes turned to him, wearing casual clothing rather than his typical cape/suit, as he brought a chair in with him and sat it down next to Roger, who scooted over a bit to make room.
"And what are you, his assistant?" the man scoffed. "Come to put a few lumps in me, or are you the needle guy?"
Stephan raised an eyebrow, looking over at Roger. "Do I look that buff?"
"Never," the Security Chief said, his own arms twice the size of Stephan's.
"Are you drunk, Mr. Keev?" the First Lord asked.
"Don't call me 'Mr.' anything. My name is Arne. Use it."
"Why is it you think you're in a position to be giving orders, Arne?"
"I may have lost everything, but you'll never take my pride," he said, pounding his bound fists on the table for emphasis.
"What pride is there working for bandits?"
"What pride is there working for the Davions?" he countered.
"Damn," Stephan said, looking to Roger again. "I'm starting to like this guy already."
All he got was a huff out of his friend whose eyes rarely left Keev and did not seem to be in a joking mood. Roger really was taking his new role seriously. A bit too seriously.
"Right now Sandra is spilling her guts," Stephan offered.
"Hachney got caught too?" Keev asked.
"Four of your mechs went down. Two dead, two surviving. She was on foot a couple of minutes away from your dropships when they just abandoned her. We probably could have taken at least one of them, but didn't feel like running the gauntlet to do it. She ejected and landed within their firing range. She was home free, but they left her anyway. So she's telling us everything she can about them. We're going to let her go," he said, drawing a raised eyebrow from Roger, who otherwise remained silent, "in exchange for the information. First jumpship out she'll be on, because I don't think the Duke is in too good of a mood when it comes to bandits, which means you're lucky I convinced him to let us pick you up."
"Kid, who exactly do you think you are?"
"You guys were chasing a Crusader and a Centurion. I was in the Centurion, he was in the Crusader," Stephan said, thumbing backwards to the door where Grady had quietly slithered in to stand in the open doorjamb. "My name is Stephan Morten. I'm the current leader of House Morten."
"Never heard of it," Keev said dismissively.
"Make sense. Otherwise you should have known we had mechs on the planet. You guys walked into a hell of a trap. This Red Baron must have been pissed at losing four mechs."
"He doesn't know about it yet, but he'll be more than pissed."
"So he wasn't here today?"
Keev laughed hard, making it sound almost genuine. "He's too important to waste his time on a little raid like this…but he'll avenge the loss. You can mark my words on that. There'll be payback coming."
"And a rescue for you?"
"No," Keev said, more willing to talk with a mechwarrior than the Security Chief who'd knocked him unconscious out in the grass fields. "I'm dispossessed now, and he doesn't give a shit about me or Sandra. When he comes back, he'll torch your little city to make a point."
"I assume he has a lot more mechs then?"
"That I'll tell you. Yes, he has a lot more than a Company. He personally has a big Atlas when he wants to get involved, and he's not some little bandit. He's a warlord who owns a number of planets. That's all I'm going to tell you about my employer."
"If he's not coming from you, doesn't that make him your former employer?"
"Doesn't matter. I'm no rat."
"Why didn't your mechs see mine coming off the dropship and turn and run when you had the chance?"
"We were trying to get you two before you got to the spaceport. We didn't know you had any more on the dropship. Smart bit of strategy there."
"Thank you. Now what are we supposed to do with you?"
He pulled his hands up a couple of inches, as high as they would go, and clanked the chains on his cuffs. "Not like I have much say in it."
"Was that Centurion yours or the Red Baron's?"
"It was mine," he said, with Stephan seeing the same feeling of dispossession burning inside him underneath the fear of captivity.
"You're lucky you're in House Morten custody. We're a civilized House, so there's not going to be any beatings or torture to get information. We simply ask, make deals, and if you don't want to give then that's the end of it."
"You're just going to let me walk out the front door then?" he scoffed.
"If I was cruel I might. The Duke's people would pick you up, and considering he's a former General, he might not be so nice to his prisoners."
"I'd still like to take my chances, if it's all the same with you."
"It's not. When we take someone prisoner, you become our responsibility. That's why we're taking Sandra to another system in exchange for the information she is giving us."
"I won't rat out," Keev reiterated.
"Then answer this one question. Why join a warlord instead of a mercenary unit?"
"Pay is better," he said flatly.
"How much better?"
"We get a cut of every raid we're on. Mercs only get paid salaries and small bonuses."
"But you get to steal stuff, so the pay is better?"
"Exactly."
"And where's your money now?"
Keev's expression went from bad to horrific. "It'll probably be looted with them assuming I'm dead."
"Nice friends you've got."
"I never said they were friends. I just don't rat out my employer, that's all."
"Any family?"
"Out here? Are you kidding? Families are for settlers, and bandits pick the settlers dry. I prefer being higher up the food chain."
"And now you're at the bottom of it, dispossessed, and handcuffed inside a cell," Stephan said, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table. "How would you like a job?"
Roger's head swung around as if it was on a swivel, but to his credit he didn't voice his strong objection in front of the prisoner.
"You're looking to hire then?"
"Special situation. Those mechs that followed us out of the dropship were piloted by trainees, and right now they're not very good. But tonnage matters and we could have stomped on you just the same if you hadn't run, but we might have lost a few of them in the process, so I'm glad you did. Only me and Grady here have any experience was mechwarriors. And since you've got experience playing villain, how about you do so again in the simulators? Make my trainees pay for every mistake, expose every weakness, and humiliate them over and over until they learn what not to do?"
"Does it get me out of this cell?"
"We'll find you better accommodations, but you'll still be on house arrest for 2 years, after which, if there are no problems, you'll receive backpay for those two years and a paid ticket off world to get you out of the Duke's reach. I know it's not the same as being in a real mech, but a simulator is far better than this cell. And way better than whatever the Duke would do to you. If he's nice you might get 10 years in one of his prisons."
"Or I can rat out the Red Baron and go free now?"
"That option is still on the table."
"I'd only have to surrender my honor for it," he said angrily, and Stephan's frown deepened almost to match his.
"There is no honor in what you were doing here, Arne. My House is honor-bound to stop units like the Red Baron's from looting and destroying cities."
"The honor is in piloting a mech and being loyal to my employer. Beyond that I don't care much what the mission is."
"Unfortunately that's an attitude we find a lot with mercenaries. Which is why we don't hire them and instead raise our own forces, instilling in them a true sense of honor so we can expect a certain code of conduct out of them. Now, do you want to take one of the two deals I've offered, or just sit in this cell and think about it for a few weeks?"
"I'm no rat," he said for the third time. "But if you want me to shoot up your boys in the sims, make it one year and we've got a deal."
"Three years," Stephan countered, "but each victory you have subtracts a week."
Keev considered that for a moment. "How often do I get a chance to fight?"
Stephan turned around and looked at Grady questioningly.
"I can't say for sure how good he is, seeing as how it was mostly running he was doing today, but I can work him into the simulator at least once, maybe twice a day."
"So you're saying, if my math is right, that I could be out of here in a few months if I have an impressive win streak?"
"If you're that good," Grady replied before Stephan could. "The trainees are getting better every week."
"What's the pay like?"
"30 C-bills a day, plus 5 for every mech you take down."
"You sound like you've hired mercs before."
"I'm just a good deal maker, Arne. Do we have one?"
"House arrest, you said?"
"You shot at my people in battle. It's not like we can actually trust you."
"As I said, I'm loyal to my employers. If I'm working for you…even in the sims…you'll get no trouble from me. After it's over, where do you send me?"
"Anywhere in the Federated Suns this side of June," Stephan said, referencing the planet rather than the month.
"What about the Taurians?"
"If that's where you want to go, I can arrange it."
"Just asking to see what my options were, but I didn't catch your name the first time."
"Stephan Morten."
"Mr. Morten, I accept your deal," he said amicably, then turned to face Roger. "Now get these damn cuffs off me."
Roger pulled something under the table and the chain to the cuffs released, allowing him to pick his hands up, but they were still linked together.
"That's all you're getting for now," Roger said, unamused in the slightest as Stephan stood up.
"We'll make arrangements for some proper living quarters. Until then, you're stuck here I'm afraid. Try and escape, or go anywhere you're not told to go, and the deal is voided. Clear?"
"Crystal, sir," he said, standing up with a hitch.
Stephan's eyes narrowed. "Are you wounded, Arne?"
"I didn't surrender," was all he said.
"I took him down rather hard," Roger admitted. "He still had a pistol."
"Well, we only hand out pain killers in extreme situations. But I'll have a medtech check you out a little later. Until then, you're just going to have to suffer through it."
"I'm fine, sir."
"Good," Stephan said, turning around and walking out with Grady. Roger signaled the two guards to come with him into the outer chamber and he locked the solid door behind him, allowing them to see Keev through a one-way glass window, but he couldn't see or hear them.
"Are you crazy?" Roger finally said.
"Aye, he is," Grady answered first. "Crazy like a fox. I can use that bastard well in the simulators…and if he doesn't put in a good show, he doesn't get paid as much, and he's stuck here longer. That was masterful work my friend."
"Thank you," Stephan said, looking back at Roger. "I'm better at deal making than mech piloting, apparently."
"He's going to be a constant nightmare for me."
"You said you were bored. I just gave you some legit security duty to do."
"I'd rather chase down birds on the motion sensors than keep this time bomb inside the Estate."
"He's not going to have a weapon, or be near one. He's not going to be able to walk around. We're going to get him some quarters…or maybe build some special ones…and he doesn't leave them except for simulator work. His meals get delivered to him."
"No physical training?" Roger argued, knowing that was cruel to do to a person in a box. Even a nice apartment-sized one."
"Get him a treadmill for now and we're reassess in a month. Fair enough?"
"Fair enough, but my men are still green and one slip up could see somebody dead if he's holding a big ass grudge after getting shot out of his mech."
"Double the guard of greenies so one will counter another's mistake. If they can't handle holding an untrustworthy employee, how are they supposed to deal with armed enemies?"
"It's just not something I'd planned for, Steph. And if I screw up…"
"I'm making the decision for you. If it blows up, it's my fault. But if he won't rat out the Red Baron, I think if he's working for us he'll apply the same standard."
"Gut feeling?"
"And a gamble," he admitted. "But I don't just want to lock him in a cell for years or hand him over to the Duke for even worse."
"We could just cut him loose somewhere else."
"I'm not feeling that charitable," Stephan said, remembering the armor damage to his Centurion's back from the Wasps and maybe a laser shot from this guy. It had been so chaotic he couldn't tell where every missile and lance of energy was coming from.
"If I had someone competent I'd promote them and go back to being your bodyguard."
"Don't really need one sitting in the Estate almost every day. Keep it safe, and I'll be safe."
"It was easier when I reported to your father."
"Easier is boring," he reminded his friend. "Time to stretch your abilities a little."
He punched Roger in the shoulder softly, his way of saying 'bye,' and placed a hand on Grady's shoulder as he passed.
"You get him to work in the simulators as soon as possible. Let our trainees see what would have happened in an even fight in case some of them are getting delusions of grandeur."
"Might thoughts exactly. Consider it done."
"Carry on, fellas," Stephan said, heading out of the small security complex into the cool air as he walked across the growing number of sidewalks in the valley, heading back to his own office to get some more planning work done. He couldn't sleep yet, but give him another hour or two to work the rest of the adrenaline out from his first live mech combat and he was sure he was going to sleep for a solid 12 hours straight, and intended to clear his morning schedule to accommodate just that.