Sigma Mercenaries 0001R: Initial Public Offering REVISED

by CSS Stravag

Sigma Mercenaries Mainline story beginning, REVISED EDITION. When an unknown train lands on the vegetable garden of an American Militiaman, and the happenings in the train are revealed to be wildly messed up, four Americans swing into action to save lives and bring order to chaos. Along the way, they will meet a very odd and diverse cast of peeps from all over Existence.. (Rated M)

8. Sound and Fury

(Sigma Mercenaries, Story 0001, Chapter 08: Sound and Fury)

(24 March, Magi Year 14408 / Year SL 8838, 0630 Hours Local Time)
(Firearms Range, Administration Building Basement 1, Base Boarhound, Terra 232)
(Day 7 of Campaign)

Magazine in, bolt back, gun up, selector to semi, trigger squeeze, trigger squeeze, trigger squeeze.

"Three in the x-ring, boss," Asuka reported. "Do it again."

Hess brought the UMP40 up from low ready and repeated the drill, this time a little bit faster. Again, all three rounds landed in the X-ring at 25 meters, which validated his study on the subject of accuracy in firearms handling.

"And you say you've never used one of these before?" Asuka asked.

"Aye," Hess replied. "Going full happy," he said before he brought the weapon up again. This time, Asuka was showered by the hot brass from the submachine gun as Hess cut loose to empty the magazine.

"Ow ow ow!" she took several moments to pick the hot 40-caliber cases out of her hair and the back of her shirt collar. "You should have warned me, sir!"

"Had no idea it was going to throw brass that far," Sigma One said before he set the gun down and flexed his shoulders. In the same fashion as yesterday, Sidonia had hammered on him in the gym for 80 minutes and now Hess was working on firearms rating, neither task of which was particularly easy on the arms or back.

"Been meaning to ask you, sir," Asuka said as she sat on the shooting bench next to where Hess was loading magazines. "Most societies do five up two down for people, give them at least some time to rest or take care of personal business. You intend to just keep trucking on?"

"I was thinking doing maybe 7-up-3-down or some similar metric. Still, a lot of the stuff I do does not particularly require a huge amount of physical strain, so doing management and planning operations is not a huge thing." Hess set aside one of the loaded magazines and began feeding rounds into a second. "Strictly speaking, we're not locked into anything specific in terms of schedule, though I must warn you, this is the job that never ends."

"Oh, I expected that," Asuka said as she leaned toward the Boss. "I know you gave an answer to this question the first day we were here, but really, why are you doing this? There's no guarantee that you'll live long enough to enjoy the mercenary job. Or the pile of cash you draw in."

Hess continued loading UMP40 magazines, thinking over an answer to Asuka's question. The lack of response from Hess after 20 seconds caused Asuka to lay down on the bench in front of him, head propped on one arm. "Hrm?" Hess prompted after she laid down on his stack of loaded magazines.

"You know how temperamental and stubborn I can be, sir?" she asked in a clearly alluring voice.

"I can guess," Hess said as he continued loading rounds.

"I'm not going away until I have an answer. And I might have to make it a bit difficult to continue this weapons test until I have an answer," Asuka threatened in the same alluring voice.

"Always like me a challenge," Hess said as he propped the freshly-loaded magazine against her midriff. Asuka appeared surprised by his disregard for her attempt to stop him, but didn't say anything. "Was not ignoring or dodging the question, was considering a response," Sigma One said as he continued loading another magazine.

"Okay, I'm listening," she said. And so is the rest of the base, she didn't say, given this was a conspiracy between herself and Virtue.

"The day the 521 Train dropped into my vegetable garden, I was doing my usual morning routine. That ended when a Train arrived and disgorged passengers into my side yard, where a Slaver shot at least one dead, maybe two more. Now, to most Americans, that would be cause to close your doors and windows, lock up tight, and cower in fear while the Police try to respond fast enough to save your arse from a case of high-velocity lead poisoning." He propped a second magazine against her midriff, apparently completely unphased that she was laying across his shooting bench in an alluring manner.

"And you're not a normal American," Asuka completed the thought prematurely.

"Not at all," Hess confirmed.

"Which makes the Regular Guy rockers on your shirts a bit of a joke. From what I know of America, the Train would have folded all but maybe one person in twenty. That's not a regular guy."

"Not going to argue that thought," Hess said as he propped a third magazine against her midriff.

"How much ammo do you intend to pile up on my waist?" she asked bluntly as Hess began loading a fourth magazine.

"Oh, since this is probably going to be the sub-gun of choice, I want to make sure I am familiar with it. Six, eight mags or so," he said nonchalantly.

"Okay, you still haven't answered the standing question. Why?" Asuka asked after a moment.

Hess stacked the fourth magazine before he opened his mouth to answer. "America is a nation with a long list of problems. Social deterioration, economic collapse, government mismanagement at every level, draconian abuse of power, denial of its own founding documents and principals, the list is yet longer than that. Still, when I compare the worst shitholes in America to the better areas of the Trains, America wins hands down. At least there is an expectation of survival in Shit-cago or Blow York or Lost Angeles. There isn't much of an expectation of survival in the Trains; persons who survive a year are the roaring exception, not the rule."

"So? It's the way of the Trains," Asuka said nonchalantly as Hess rested his fifth magazine against her waist.

"It can be done better," Hess answered.

"Why?" Asuka looped back on the question that everyone was dying to know.

"Would it be too flippant for me to say that I do not want to live my life knowing I saw a completely fucked up scenario and did nothing about it?" Hess asked in counter. "Most people run away from trouble. I saw trouble, heard trouble, then I ran toward it, because I believe it is the moral and just thing to do. I just had no bloody idea the whole scenario was skull-fucked from top to bottom, and the one train was just the tip of the iceberg."

"So, you're doing it out of the feelings in your heart?" Asuka reached out to Hess' body armor and diddled with one of the MOLLE loops over his heart.

"Yeah, you could probably say that and get away with it," Sigma One said as he set the sixth magazine down, this one on top of her hip. "Someone is in trouble, I do what I can to help. Doesn't matter if it is a vehicle breakdown on a country road or an interdimensional jumper train full of sociopaths and gangsters. I do what I can to help."

"Anyone ever accuse you of being a gentleman?" Asuka asked.

"No, usually get accused of being a psychotic monster because I am a gun owner and that doesn't sit well with some people in America," Erich said almost offhand as he set magazine number seven up on her hip as well.

"So what do you say to them when they tell you that?" Asuka asked in a hushed tone, which was still clearly audible throughout the base.

"I call 'em hoplophobic soggy pussies that are unfit to polish my boots due to their lack of spine," Sigma One said. "Usually thereafter, I remind them that their desire to have only the police armed comes with the caveat that the police are not legally required to save their sorry asses in a shooting situation, by Supreme Court precedent. Same principle applies here: the Militia is the policing apparatus of the Protectorate, but the onus of personal defense is with each and every individual person. The Militia can't be everywhere, and I am reasonably sure that a Militiaman wouldn't like riding along in my back pocket for such circumstances. Not for long, at least."

"Not after you do some of your McHess burgers, certainly," Asuka quipped as Hess stacked magazine number eight on her hip, and started loading a ninth.

"A challenge on my cooking? I seem to remember you having a whole one and liking it," Sigma One pointed out.

"Oh, I liked it, but the blend of spices you used, it tore me up about an hour after dinner," she admitted. "You almost ready to do some more targets?"

"Certainly," Hess said as he loaded the ninth magazine into his UMP40. "Hold still a second, and tighten up your shoulders."

"What are you — " Asuka bit her sentence off as Hess rested the foregrip of his sub-machinegun on her tensed left shoulder. He tightened the stock into his shoulder, hunched down, aligned sights, and let a burst loose. "What the — you used me as a shooting rest?"

"You seem to be the proper height off the bench for it, so…" Hess let the sentence trail off.

"This might be something we need to practice," Asuka said.

"Hrm?" Hess grunted.

"Using each other as shooting rests or braces."

Sigma one chuckled. "Another day in Sigma. Good freaking morning, world," he said as Asuka rolled herself over to back-flat against the table.

-x-x-x-

(24 March, Magi Year 14408 / Year SL 8838, 0900 Hours Local Time)
(Support Services Group Headquarters, Base Boarhound, Terra 232)
(Day 7 of Campaign)

After Jeff Evans had finished the paperwork, Sigma Support Services Group had come out to five groups on paper: the engineering group, the rail group, the heavy equipment operators, the technicians, and the magic services group. As of the initial draft of his paperwork, only two of those groups had any staff: the engineering group and the rail group.

The Engineering group had only one active person: Jeff's bad self.

The Rail group really came down to the rest of the personnel, with the effective Subdivision Head being Mosley Goodwin. The Rail Beacon team, also a subdivision, was right now folded into the rest of the subdivision because Luna refused a management promotion in lieu of being involved with the disassembly of the Trains.

On paper, there were no official personnel in the the Technicians, and only three greenhorns in the Heavy Equipment Operators, but Jeff figured that would change soon enough. Eventually someone would break something, and someone else would have to fix it.

"Okay, guys, we're not going to chew this fat too hard," Jeff said. "What's your status and plans for the day?"

"Status is good," Mosley began. "I'm going to work with the rest of the Jump Engine team to do more specific training today, since we have all the engines in place and working."

"Good, the more the better. I'll also be putting out feelers to find personnel to join in the effort. We'll need more hard technicians around the base overall, and for disassembling the trains specifically," Evans said. "Luna? Same on your side?"

"Oh hell no," Luna Fallsorth said. "We have one of six planned Rail Beacons set up. I've got a lot more work to do, especially since we also need to set up integrated control systems inside the admin building. We can make the beacons grab a train, kill the engines at a control interface level, and thus give the entry teams time to board and take control of the engines."

"Better than advertised," Specialist One said. "You need extra personnel?"

"Not right now, what group I have should be able to make this happen. We'll want to add more personnel later."

"More bases?" Jeff asked after a moment of consideration.

"Yeah, I think I heard the boss talking about using all the railhead bases as train traps. That means beacons at each base, and that means personnel for those beacons."

"And it means units of the Rail guard at each base," Cynthia said.

"Also correct, since the beacon is only part of the game. Someone has to go onboard, stop the engines, and move the Train to holding where it can be stripped down," Luna pointed out.

"Not going to get some of that bounty?" Mosley asked with a straight face.

"Not likely," Luna said. "I know the basics of using a rifle, but that's it. I'll be the first to admit that I'm not hardened combat personnel, and I've spent my lifetime trying to avoid it."

"Okay, I expected that," Mosley admitted.

"And that's the basis of what's been asked of us for the day," Jeff said. "Also, this one is internal to the group, any of you who have ideas for hardware or systems, write them down. Carry a notepad or use your notepad on your tablets. On the network, I have a storage group set up for engineering ideas, so dump the thoughts you have in there. We'll sort them out later depending on what we can and can't do at a given time."

"You sure, sir? I can come up with some pretty bizarre stuff," Luna cautioned.

"Good. The Boss is one for eccentric ideas and I like an engineering challenge. Remember, thinking of an idea is good, thinking of a way to make that idea work is better, and making the idea work cost-effectively is the best. Any — " Jeff was cut short by some knocking at the door. "Enter."

Once the door opened, everyone in the room was on their feet. "Sorry for the delay in arriving, I had heard that the Specialist meeting was here, but had some HPG messages to send."

"Uh, High Executor Nereus, um," Mosley started, but couldn't think of a politic way to phrase the question rattling around in his head.

"Oh yes, I know. I am a liaison, which means officially I should not be involved, but this isn't a standard diplomatic operation. Sigma already has a long list of enemies, and Atrebas' declaration against the Grand Council will not have defanged them to any appreciable amount."

"Still, sir — " Mosley began, but was cut off by Jeff.

"I'm thinking you're thinking maybe taking command of the Magic Support Specialist Group?" Evans asked.

"If you will have me, yes?" Nereus asked.

Jeff nodded. "What do you need to make it happen?"

"An office to get organized, a recruit would be handy to begin expanding capabilities, and a listing of projects depending on the use of Magic as opposed to technical skills," Nereus rattled off. "And a water cooler, if available."

"One and three are cake. Water cooler and a recruit might be a challenge." Jeff brought up the inventory system and checked on water coolers. "Don't have any in inventory. We'll need to order a few, they're a necessity in offices throughout Existence." What few had been in the base prior to the occupancy of the new tenants, the Star League had taken off with when they evacuated. Jeff also took a moment to swipe the existing magic projects list to Nereus' tablet. "Your tablet now has the project list for the Magic group."

Nereus flipped over to the project management board on his tablet. "Okay, this is a good and ambitious start. Sounds like some plans from Sigma One."

"Guilty as charged, him and Toni have been cooking up some material," Jeff said. "You think it is doable?"

"Easily, once we have some ferrocrete or titanocrete cutters and someone who knows how to use them," Nereus acknowledged. "Runes have to be etched into the ground, and there are processes used to magnify their effects. You etch a rune into the ground, you get ten percent returns. You paint a rune on the ground, you get five percent returns. You cut a rune into the ground and fill the cavities with a metallic base that has powdered runestone dust in it, you get a helluva lot closer to full power, 30 to 50 percent. You put Mithril, powdered diamond, and powdered rune stone in the cut-outs, you double the power of the rune's enchanter."

"Okay, there's the procedure going forward," Jeff said.

"Not so fast, boy-o," Nereus said. "Some runes, that's a shit-ton of effort and expense for no real gain. Classic example: the hangar projects, I can do simple etched runes that will transform an avian between human and avian form in seventy milliseconds. Do it in the mithril rune base, that's 30 milliseconds turnaround. Either case, they're transformed so quickly their brain doesn't have time to register the transformation."

"Okay, good point," Jeff conceded. "You call the projects, you call the materials and specialists, I'll make sure the Boss gets it ordered."

"I'm in. For job traffic, what's my radio callsign?" Nereus asked.

"Specialist Five," Jeff answered after he checked his list.

"Welcome to the party milord," Luna said as he raised a water bottle to the High Executor.

"Do we have any personnel trying to get into the support mages groups yet?" Nereus asked. "You did say finding recruits and water coolers might be a challenge."

"You have one volunteer, Nereus-sensei," Cynthia said abruptly, which caused a brief confused look from Jeff.

Nereus was a hint taken aback by the volunteering, but decided quickly that she seemed the right kind of person for the long-term Rune Magic or Relic Magic tasks. "Which side? Runic or Relic?"

"I will learn what is deemed proper and necessary, sir," Cynthia answered.

That answer stifled Nereus for a moment. "Well, not often that someone volunteers for both of the archaic Mage skills at the same time, but it is doable. Honestly, it will take you longer to learn the proper methods than it will take you to gain the distortive power necessary to actually do the duties."

On that revelation, Mosley Goodwin spit his coffee out all over his paper note-tablet and splattered his electronic tablet. "Did I hear that right, sir?"

"You did," Nereus said with a smile as the Jump Engineer cleaned up his workspace. "If you're going to trot out the Old Emperor's training regimen, allow me to cut that thinking short. Atrebas studied under the Rune Maidens, none of whom were Transcendent level, and it took him years. Mages who study under an Executor can gain the distortion ability necessary in a matter of months. A Mage that studies under a High Executor gains the necessary distortion in weeks. It will literally take you longer to understand the process of forming a Relic Enchantment Set then it will take you to gain the power to make the intended relic. And, depending on the complexity of the relic, it will almost certainly take you longer to make it than to gain the necessary distortion to make one."

"I will do what is needed, sir. I officially volunteer," Cynthia declared with finality.

"There you go, sir. First volunteer," Jeff said. "Any other business at this time?" Nobody else raised their hands. "Let's make this happen."

-x-x-x-

(24 March, Magi Year 14408 / Year SL 8838, 1030 Hours Local Time)
(METARgraphic Field North, Base Boarhound, Terra 232)
(Day 7 of Campaign)

Megan popped the latch on the train car door, which caused the simulated door to slide out of the way. She was running lead on the car-clearing, since she was probably one of the better shots in her team, but still far from perfect. And, after the demonstration of room-clearing skill from the Callsigns last night, everyone on the Rail Teams knew they had much to work toward.

Once her teammate was up in position behind her, Megan moved forward with Ikuno directly behind her. A short jog to the right for the walkway, with the bedrooms of the simulated train car on the left, and they were clear of this test area. Megan, seeing an open car on the left, kept going forward —

"Bang," a haunting voice said from inside the car bedroom after Megan passed it.

Element Leader Christenson stopped and swore. "Oh, I can't believe I did that! I know better!" she turned to look back at the opened room she bypassed, where Clint was holding his fingers to Ikuno's face in the shape of a gun.

"I know you know better, which is why the hard lesson on it," Clint said.

"I can do this," she said with severe frustration.

"Unless you quit, you will do this," Clint said as he opened up one of the windows and climbed out of the car. Megan and Ikuno were quick to follow, since one failure in these scenarios was all that was required for disqualification. "Launcelot Three, enter and clear," Clint ordered the next element to take the test after Megan was clear of the failure-point car.

"Sorry, boss, should have followed rather than turned," Ikuno said.

"No, my bad," Megan said. "Should have cleared that room properly. If you had followed, he would have shot you in the ass."

"Probably would have laughed about it, too," Cedric V. declared coldly.

"Laughed, no, giggled," and Clint did giggle once, though it was more evil than funny. "The purpose of me shooting someone in the ass with a paint round isn't because I'm a depraved American twenty-something. It's to get it through to your subconscious that screwing the pooch results in pain. The alternative is, if you don't get the lesson now, you will get the lesson for real when it does happen to you later. Usually with some kind of permanent injury of some such or another."

"Understood, sir," Megan answered deftly.

"Now we do this again, I take it?" Ikuno asked.

"Yes, we will be doing this again, and again, and even some more until the job gets done first time every time." Clint folded his arms over his chest as Megan took on a bit of a pouty attitude. "What? You think, if I threw you into the Train right now, that you're going to be able to ensure that you come out the far end of the Train alive?"

"What? No way can I ensure it — and I think I remember you took hits as well, sir," she said in sharp rebuke.

"Exactly, thank you for proving my point," Clint answered. "I've been doing entries and room clears for years, twice a month for years. The training you're getting today and the next two days, this is hyper-compressed compared to the workout the Tweety Birds gave us Callsigns over the years. We will make it work for you, but you need to make it work for yourself and you need to keep your mind open and mobile."

"Mind?" Ikuno asked nobody in particular. "Open and mobile?" she asked after thirty seconds of considering it.

"Tunnel vision," Megan said after a moment. "I know what I did wrong. I went for the end, rather than taking my time. My mind was already walking through the last door in the test, rather than watching my corners or clearing rooms."

Clint nodded with an approving smile. "It becomes so much easier when you understand the error before I have to explain it," Clint said.

The buzzer sounded, which signalled the next team in had failed. "That was quick," Ikuno said.

"Virtue, what got them?" Clint asked.

"Camper on the stairs in the number two car, Olivia was busy looking at the door rather than the stairs and stood two seconds in the line of fire," Virtue showed them a holoprojection of the incident, and how it would have looked in a real world depiction.

"My operators, my apologies," Sir Launcelot said as he approached. "Your element was almost through, Megan, what dashed luck," the ancient Knight in a modern misplacement said.

"Tunnel vision strikes again," Megan said simply.

"Tunnel vision? I have heard not the term," Launcelot admitted.

"When you become so focused on one thing, or one piece of terrain, that you allow yourself to overlook the problems in your immediate vicinity," Megan said.

"Ah, an appropriate description," Sir Launcelot acknowledged. "Even I have noticed such in my mindset whence down on the sights," he jostled the sub-machinegun as an indicator.

"Practice will break the tunnel vision, and teamwork will prevent an enemy from easily flanking you," Clint said. "Friends watch friends' backs, and friends don't let friends clear rooms improperly. You do it fast enough to keep the enemy on his heels, but slow enough to do it right. Wagging your ass out in the wind may feel good, until someone with a shotgun pumps two ounces of buckshot into it."

"Always a flair for the turn of phrase," Sir Launcelot said. "You would certainly fit in with the infantry back in Camelot."

Clint chuckled, this time a humorous one. "Not sure I'd be of any use with melee weapons, but if I could bring the firepower, I might be willing to assist with some of the local problems."

Clint had no idea that he would be called upon those words in the future, but by someone well above Launcelot's rank.

-x-x-x-

(24 March, Magi Year 14408 / Year SL 8838, 1030 Hours Local Time)
(Willow Park School, Base Boarhound, Terra 232)
(Day 7 of Campaign)

"And the definition of a school bus is… a military truck with a yellow stripe on the front and fold-down stairs for the kids," Autumn half-complained.

"Better than hot-footing it across half the base for this trip," Sabina pointed out as the kids climbed in and shuffled into their seats. The back end of the Five-ton Truck (M928FC) had been customized into a mostly passable school bus, with seats and all, so it was effectively a medium-length schoolbus on a military truck frame.

"Agreed, especially with the training groups out and running laps at unknown intervals, keeping them from getting entangled with the kids would be impossible," Michiru pointed out. "And they'll get plenty of exercise at the holofield."

"I still can't believe this, it's like Star Trek technology," Autumn shook her head. "The more I live here and think about it, the more unreal this becomes."

"And all too real at the same time," Sabina said, waving her finger at two of the newest refugees to Sigma territory, the ladies Gabrielle and Keanna, rescued from a (literal) whorehouse in 90s Detroit by Sigma Three and one of the Secret Service officers. Keanna's advanced pregnancy was easily visible at range, and the MedTechs had put her on restricted duty until after the child was born.

"Gotta admit, even if I don't like the merc work concept, that was for all the right reasons," Autumn said stolidly. "And nobody was hurt in the mission."

"That's that, all are loaded," Valentina said as she folded up the steps and dogged them down. "Rest is yours, I have a kitchen to clean."

"Didn't see, who is driving?" Autumn asked as she opened the passenger door to the 'bus'. "Oh," the British Teacher grumped after she saw who was at the wheel.

"Hop in, it's the Magic Freaking Schoolbus," Victoria Williams (Sigma Four) said with a smile and clear sarcasm.

"How worried should I be?" Autumn asked after she climbed in and buckled herself in.

"Eh, I wouldn't be," Victoria said. "You did request a museum setup, and the Terran Educational Museum Network agreed. They'll be waiting for us when we arrive at the METARgraphic field."

The premise was simple: the TEMN maintained a virtual duplicate of its facilities that it could present to a class anywhere in Existence that was relayed to a Hyperpulse Generator by way of the Micro-Gate Laser System. The Museum tour guides were all veteran personnel, and all had their own Neural Interface System that allowed them to do a tour by way of the remote feed in the entire virtual system. On the other hand, the tour guide for today had expressed interest in visiting the location physically by way of the Jump Engines, though such a field trip for her would be some time into the future..

"And you?" Victoria asked.

"I didn't get to do too much of that when I was young. My father was always away from home and mom was always sleeping around, so myself and my sister were pretty much on our own." Victoria sighed. "My sister was killed in gang crossfire the day after her 20th birthday, which scared me straight. Now look where I am," Sigma Four chuckled grimly. "Human Resources Manager for a budding government and military force."

Autumn nodded. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't be prying," she said.

"Don't be, I'm not. I was a typical dumbass teen back in those days, nothing more and nothing less. Took me my twenties to get straightened out, and getting married to Clarence helped. Now I get to relive the childhood I didn't have, the teen years I blew, and the twenties that I should have spent better. All while doing something worthwhile that I wouldn't have ever thought about at home."

Autumn sighed. "You really do believe in this?" she asked as they passed in front of the administration building.

"Oh yeah, I'm a believer," Sigma Four admitted. "My homeland, the ontological inertia of the great sucking sound caused by Washington, it consumes all even if we had the fix in place. Out here, we get to build it right and make sure it stays right. Meanwhile, we are clearing the Trains and building this world up. Hard thing to not believe in, when you consider that we're already making a difference." Victoria pointed at a group of Basic recruits marching by. "Right there, mafia members, train slaves, average joes, all are now safe, sleep under good roofs, and working toward a goal. Some are in it for the promise of money. Others are in it for a cause. Some want the challenge of being their best. A lot of them, though, they're in it for one very specific reason. They're in it because Sigma believes in them."

"Sigma… you mean the big guy?" Autumn asked as the 'skool bus' rolled past a tank hangar.

"No, I mean the whole of Sigma," Victoria answered. "Hess is Sigma, but Sigma isn't just Hess. We are a team, and soon we will be a unit. We fight for each other, we work for each other, we gain results or pay prices for each other." The bus stopped again for another wave of recruits marching by. "A lot of these kids, this is their first real structure in their lives. Born on the train, barely sucked to weaning, then thrown into the wild or the Charlie Mafia, no education, no training, school of hard knocks graduates, they are the ones that beat Darwin's dice. Making it past a year on the Train is the exception to the rule. Now, they look at themselves in the mirror and they seer a reason for living, not just a reason for survival."

Autumn gagged at the thought. "Doing merc work is a reason for living? Are you psycho?" she asked bluntly.

"The merc work is just a way to bring bucks in," Victoria said coldly, which tone of voice told Autumn that she had just stomped on a landmine of a subject. After a moment, Victoria looked to the passenger seat where the teacher was. "When you join a military, there are two things to think about. You can join for whatever reason you want, but once you're inside, it's about duty, discipline, honor, courage. When the battle begins, it boils down even further: all the reasons go out the window, all the thoughts of self go out the window, all you do is fight for the man to your left, and the man to your right. All that is left is the guy that's willing to fight for his brothers and his homeland. And this, this shithole abandoned base on a shithole planet, in a shithole dimension far far away, this is their homeland. This is the first homeland that hasn't rejected them, or the first homeland they actually have."

The look on Autumn's face said enough. "Yes, it's their homeland, not yours," Victoria concluded before she put some speed on. "You were the number two person to sign up to get out of here, once we begin repatriating persons. 1970s Britain, not a bad place to live, so I can't fault you for wanting to go home. Just remember to warn the government about the coming Falklands War and the Muslim semi-invasion of the late 90s and later, and enjoy your serenity while it lasts. World War 3 is not far around the corner from the 90s."

Autumn looked at the floorboard between her feet guiltily. "You do have a point."

"Oh, no worries, I'm just venting," Victoria said. "Not even trying to make a point, but if you got a message out of an old has-been HR manager like myself, more power to you." The bus stopped in front of the METARgraphic field, which had already built itself up into the museum they were about to virtually tour. "Time to enjoy a stroll through a museum."

-x-x-x-

(24 March, Magi Year 14408 / Year SL 8838, 1100 Hours Local Time)
(Northern Airfields, Base Boarhound, Terra 232)
(Day 7 of Campaign)

Vash, Meryl and Millie were not overlong in arriving at the helipad for their departure out into the 'wastelands' of Terra 232.

They weren't expecting to be riding in a chopper with side-door gunners.

They severely weren't expecting to be riding in a chopper where one of those gunners was Sigma One.

"I thought you didn't like heights?" Millie asked.

"I don't," Hess said, then held up the pair of safety tethers he was wearing, attached to two different hold points on his safety rig and two different anchor points in the chopper. "Gotta work on my fears some time. Now works as well as any."

"I am ready for this," Vash said with some steel as he mounted the chopper.

"I know you are, otherwise you wouldn't be here," Hess said as Vash and Meryl tooks seats and belted themselves in. "Remember, your mission is to convince the outlanders to join Sigma, or at least peaceably coexist. Do what you can to make this as peaceful and nonviolent as possible, but do not stick your neck out too far, Vash. We can always persuade someone after the fact; your lives are more valuable than to risk them without purpose."

"Understood," Vash said into the headset.

"What's our supply line look like?" Meryl asked.

Hess sat a long-range radio pack down in front of her. "If you need it, give us a shout. We can make things happen with these iron horses," Hess said as he gave an affectionate fist-bump to the frame of the helo. "If you need to extract back to base for some R&R or medical, that can be arranged."

"You do what you have to, missie, we'll make it happen," Captain Ellsworthy said.

"Thanks!" Millie said.

"Everyone secured?" Beck asked after he flipped on the engine pre-start switch.

"We're good back here," Hess said.

"Time to go full-up," the pilot said before he flipped the switch to active engine. The fusion powerplant took some ten seconds to cold-start, which was not unheard of, but within twenty seconds the rotors were turning and began crabbing on thrust. "Tower, this is Sigma Air One, requesting clearance to takeoff for exterior delivery."

"Sigma Air One, Tower, you are cleared," Virtue answered. "Be advised winds are 1-3-0 at 10 knots, minimal cloud cover in vicinity of charted course."

"Roger, Tower. Sigma Air One rotating now," Beck Ellsworthy said before he applied collective (1) to begin bringing the helo off the ground. "We're up and away! God I have missed this feeling!"

"Now this is a thrill down in the guts like no other," Hess said.

"It's a different world up here," Curt said from the other door gunner station. Both gunner stations had the XM134D Gatling Gun to provide maximum firepower in a small package for the delivery run, and for certain the helicopter had plenty of power to spare to run the gatlings with a fusion reactor powering the helicopter.

"Time for some riding music," Beck said. The song he selected started out with a certain low humming sound…

"Sirenia, is it? Someone has good taste in music," Hess said.

"Bonus points to the boss if you name the song," Beck said as the helo cleared the hangars and rolled left to run parallel over the runway.

"Blue Colleen," Erich said after a few moments to remember the name. "She's lost in denial…" Hess briefly sang along to the music.

"Boss wins this round. Think I'll have to dig out some harder material for the next trip."

"Dig it and dig it deep, I think he's enjoying this," Vash said.

"With the right background music, almost anything is bearable," Hess acknowledged after the song came into the guitar solo.

"Coming up on Indian Country, people. Guns live if you don't already have them," Beck said.

"Ten-four on the right," Hess said.

"Hey look, I'm spinning, I'm spinning," Curt acknowledged. (2)

"Indian Country?" Vash asked, completely unfamiliar with the term.

"Old American Politically-incorrect term for possibly neutral, likely hostile territory," Beck explained. "We are feet out of the box. First destination is the old town of Mayville. Flight time is ten minutes."

"Time to get serious," Meryl said.

"How you stocked for Derringer ammo?" Hess asked.

"Two boxes of .38 Special ammo in my backpack, sir," Meryl said. "Should give me a full reload of half my Derringers if needed."

"Vash?" Sigma One continued.

"Ten speedloaders and a box of shells, big guy," the tall one answered.

"Millie, I submitted your stun gun rounds to Xigon for reverse-engineering. They think they can have replacement 37mm cartridges drummed up for you in less than a week, same power and velocity settings as your existing rounds," Hess said. "How do you want them delivered?"

"Oh, I have two full loads plus what's in my gun, sir. Don't worry about me for now," she said.

"After you guys come back in for some R&R, I want to submit your stun gun to Xigon as well. As a riot control device, I could see that thing going the distance," Sigma One said.

"Riot control?" Millie asked, suspicious.

"Oh no, not here. I was referring to Riot Control contracts on MercNet. I've seen more than a few riot contracts, including the infamous Rodney King Riots and the Watts Riots in my former homeland. Any nonlethal solution I can deploy for riot control, more is the better. Hell, in certain circumstances, other contracts could be solved by nonlethal means, if the tools are available."

The intercom was silent for a minute as the personnel watched the countryside outside the open doors. "You really do care," Meryl eventually said.

"Of course I care, Meryl. I am an American, not a monster. I don't want to kill people if I don't have to, and I sure as hell will not enjoy killing people, but I do what I have to do to bring order to chaos. It's what I have to do, or I have failed myself, and I will have failed my oath to the Protectorate."

"If you kill all the spiders, you become the spider," Vash said simply.

"I may already be the spider, I may still be just a regular guy, I don't know yet. But for damn sure, if my fate is to be the spider, I will be the least obtrusive, least venomous spider that I must be to do the job."

-x-x-x-

(24 March, Magi Year 14408 / Year SL 8838, 1145 Hours Local Time)
(Railhead Undercroft, Administration Building Second Basement Level, Base Boarhound, Terra 232)
(Day 7 of Campaign)

Lunchtime was always a special treat with Quina behind the stove, but today was a bit unusual for the team. It had started with Dagger and Eiko watching out the windows of one of the seat cars, and progressed to even more watching out the windows as the morning dragged on.

The reason was obvious: in the month that the team had been on the Train, they had not known an outside to even exist except as a blur, but for the past week they could see outside from every car. Now, the car was being watched over by some very serious fellows in heavy armor and heavier arms, a bad portent as far as Steiner was concerned. The troopers outside had not fired a weapon at anyone, but their mere presence was menacing beyond anything they had done battle with over the years.

The passage of the fat-guy American a week prior had been rather unnerving to Steiner when he had seen it. The guy had obviously looked the entire team over real hard, hands light on his rifle but clearly ready to react if needed, yet nothing came of the encounter. The long trail he had accumulated, several hundred refugees, was evidence that he was either a charismatic sociopath, or he was the real deal — a futuristic knight in drab-green armor (?) come to rescue the people.

And now, the Princess was looking outside with intent, which meant only headache to come for the Queen's Knight. And probably for the rest of the group as well.

"I wonder if we should discourage this?" Freyja asked with a nod toward Dagger, Eiko, and now Vivi, all of whom were looking out the window panes on the doors.

"I believe we should, but even I cannot restrain myself from observing the soldiers outside," Steiner said.

"Not an enemy I would want to fight," Amaranth said.

"Lunch served!" Quina said.

"Wait! What the — " Eiko said as she pointed toward the outside rear of the train.

"Trainees?" Vivi guessed, not incorrectly.

"Huh?" Zidane asked as he approached one of the windows. "They're… running in a line?"

"More appropriately jogging," Freyja said. "They must be combatant trainees."

Dagger was silent as the column of troops marched past, though as the end of the group approached, she gasped. She pointed to a lady jogging by in the group with the most vivid pink hair that Steiner had seen, and that Zidane immediately recognized. "I know her! That's the lady named after a flower!"

"Lilac, aye," Freyja said after her memory was jogged on the matter. "I did not recognize her in the group that departed, but I do not doubt it is her."

"So, those who departed are finding new residence in this land," Red Amaranthe said. "The train has not moved in a week. Should we take our chances, or should we wait?"

"We could wait, take our chances on the denizens of this train, or we could take our chance on the persons outside," Freyja circumscribed their options.

"I am still worried about those heavy armor troopers," Adelbert Steiner said.

"It may be worth it to take the chance," Amaranth pointed out. "They march, they cheer the recruits on, nothing more. They are observing, not planning."

"Milady Alexandros, your lunch is ready," Steiner prompted.

"What is that thing?" Eiko asked, looking in a different direction out the windows.

"I have no idea," Dagger (Princess Garnet Til Alexandros) said with a complete lack of grace. Steiner cringed, given he expected to be blamed for her de-conditioning from the common decorum of a Princess, but he also had little control over the environs.

"It has no purpose that I can understand," Master Vivi said.

"I can't stand it any more!" Dagger half-shouted. "A week we've been here, watching people go by! I must know what is happening, and what is to become of us!"

"I agree," Zidane said calmly, or far more so than Dagger did.

"It would be worthwhile to know of our new environs," Freyja said.

"Need more study cooking," Quina said.

"I keep feeling powerful magic nearby," Vivi said.

"Lost any hope of appeal, or return home," Red Amaranth said.

"I just want to go home, and we're not getting there while stuck in here," Eiko said staunchly.

"It's settled! We are leaving!" Dagger said with finality, then gasped.

An Armored Infantryman had marched past the exterior doors, and behind him was a small gaggle of train residents that Steiner had crossed words with the day prior. The group had apparently departed the train wholesale, and was now headed in the direction the trainees had been moving.

"Not only are we resolved to leave, it is entirely possible to do so," Freyja said, pointing to the group as evidence.

"How does one open these doors?" Vivi asked.

"I have already lost this conversation," Steiner groused to himself.

"The purpose of an adventure is to actually do some adventuring," Zidane rebuffed the Queen's Knight. "Call it an instinct on my part, but I think we'll have a few good adventures in with them. Who knows? Maybe we can clean up things at home after we've had a year or two to sharpen up?"

"Stopping Queen Brahne and her advisor would be a good start," Freyja said.

"And you could use some better armor, big guy," Zidane said. "Those guys should be able to help."

Steiner looked out the window at a passing lady armored infantrywoman, who had stopped and removed her helmet to flex her neck, then stuffed the helm back on and locked it down to resume her march.

"Might as well. Someone has to protect the princess in these hard times." Steiner joined the three at the door to help try to overcome the unusual control systems on the exterior doors.

-x-x-x-

(24 March, Magi Year 14408 / Year SL 8838, 1230 Hours Local Time)
(Barracks Area DG, Base Boarhound, Terra 232)
(Day 7 of Campaign)

Akira and Amado thought they had an awesome plan.

Clack Clack Clack, three staples and the poster was now in place on the back wall of the barracks building. He walked down two meters of the wall, put another poster up, Clack Clack Clack, and the second half of the message was in place.

"That should do the job," Akira said with some satisfaction.

I'm not so sure, Amado thought but did not say.

"Next building we want to put these up on is D-F-3, a lot of the recruits march by there," Akira judged.

"Is this going to get the reaction we want?" Amado asked nobody in particular.

"Once they see how bad their 'leader' really is, and combined with the vote campaign, we can dethrone the fatass and get this gig moving in the right direction."

I'm really not sure about this, Amado thought fervently.

"C'mon, we have a propaganda war to win."

-x-

(10 minutes later)

"Airborne troops jump out of planes!" The Cadence Trooper shouted.

"They ain't got no goddamned brains!" The rest of the troop shouted back.

"Sound off! One — the fuck?" the lady doing the cadence stopped dead, staring at the back of barracks building DG2.

"What is it, Greenhorn?" Drill Instructor Cytheria asked.

"Ma'am, look at this shit," Greenhorn Meia Q. pointed to the offending material.

The Drill Instructor looked up one side of the posters and down the other. "Whiskey Tango Foxtrot. This punk has got some serious balls to try a stunt like this."

"Is this for real?" Greenhorn Creighton L. asked after the entire column started bunching up around it.

"I know that shithead, Akira. He couldn't pleasure a prostitute with a vibrator and written instructions," Fidel I. commented.

"How colorful," Drill Instructor Cytheria grumped about Fidel's description. "Aff, this is for real. Voting is held every ten days on matters of national or prefecture interest. Since this campaign probably started yesterday, it will be up for vote in a few days. If you don't want that jackwagon in command, make sure you vote for Hess."

"What do we do about the posters, ma'am?" Corrine asked.

"If they disappear, or if they suddenly show up in the men's urinals in the barracks buildings, I would not look too hard for the perpetrator," the Drill Instructor said. While the posting of posters was not technically illegal, the comical attempt at a smear campaign was frowned upon by the Magi personnel and disdained by the recruits.

"I got a quick fix for this," Jinx A. said before she reached for the first poster and ripped it off the wall. With the poster in hand, she stuffed it down the back of her BDU pants, rubbed it around a little, and dropped it on the ground below where it had been stapled to the wall. The brown shit streak on the artwork of Akira trying to pimp himself over Hess as some kind of savior to the people was readily evident. "Problem solved, Drill Instructor."

"Quick and efficient," Cytheria said. "Form back up, we have another two kilometers to go."

-x-

(20 minutes later)

Akira had decided to take a bit of a narcissistic trip back across his posters, to make sure everything was in order, but he quickly found out that it was not.

"What the hell is this?" Akira asked as he approached Barracks DG2. "One's missing, and the other is wadded on the ground? And what is — "

"Don't," Amado said. "I smell shit."

"Shit? What?" Akira picked up the corner of the poster daintily, then took a sniff at it. "Oh Gods! Someone wiped their arse with my artwork!"

"Everyone's a critic," Amado said with a perfectly straight face. "In this case, someone's a really hard critic."

"So tell me what you really think, amigo," Akira said sarcastically.

"Not me thinking it," Amado said. "I'm just reporting my interpretation of someone else's manifest thoughts."

"Love how you think wiping your arse with someone else's artwork is a 'thought'," Akira grumbled before he dropped the poop-stained poster into a trashbin.

"Shit happens," Amado said as they continued on toward their barracks. Mentally, he began taking stock of what supplies he had on hand, and what he needed, in case he was exiled with Akira for gross incompetence or puerile dissent.

-x-x-x-

(24 March, Magi Year 14408 / Year SL 8838, 1315 Hours Local Time)
(Business Operations Office, Administration Building Second Floor, Base Boarhound, Terra 232)
(Day 7 of Campaign)

"What gives, Clarence?" Hess asked after he entered the office. All of the Sigma Leads were here, all of the Secret Service, and he was the last in the door.

"Well, boss, you said you wanted me to call for backup if we had any other golden opportunities, and now we have one." Clarence flicked a screen from his tablet onto one of the wall monitors. "Ekaterina Pavlik, German Citizen of Russian descent, being held as a political prisoner in Czechoslovakia for the most vapid reasons possible. The West Germans want her back, and they're offering for it. It's not much, only about 480 C-bills worth of goods, but anything beats the balls off nothing and it puts another notch in our belt."

"Okay, listening," Hess said, given that he had emplaced the landmine he was now subject to.

"She's being held in a house in the Czech capital Prague, under house arrest, but with minimal guard. The West German consular officer has said there's usually only one guard on duty, fat and lazy. Figure we get him with a tranq round, then go in and pull the jailbird, then gate out to here and back to West Germany."

"Solid concept, but we go with full gear in case some shit hits the fan. Also, 70s Czech Republic was the height of the Iron Curtain. Any local QRF (3) is likely to have heavy armor, so we need LAWS just in case," Clint said.

"Hell with LAWS, I'll carry in a man-portable Ion Cannon," Toni said. "I can carry an Ion Cannon, a heavy power pack, and have fifteen shots instead of two."

"There we go," Hess said, pointing to Toni. "Virtue, find Toni an Ion Cannon and two power packs. She can carry one, I'll carry the other. Just in case."

"Order has been placed," Virtue reported. "I also have a shipping unit of AT-4CS LAWS rockets on order, so everyone can contribute as needed."

"Okay, now that we have the gear set up, time for the location information," Clarence brought up ComStar's hyper-accurate sensor modelling of the area.

-x-

(9 November 1972, 2015 Hours Local Time)
(Outskirts of Prague, Czech Republic (Soviet State), Dimension CS-17094894-3227)
(Day 7 of Campaign)

The guard assigned to guard the bitchy political prisoner wasn't much of a guard, and he routinely pulled the shit jobs because the rest of the team didn't like him. He had no idea that his guard shift was about to come to an abrupt end, along with his career and his standing in the local communist party.

A slight sound in the alley next to the house brought to mind the sound of a cat or a particularly loud rat scurrying about. He did not realize that his love of going 'rock 'n' roll' with an AKM with insufficient hearing protection had dulled his ability to determine what he was hearing was the arming of a shotgun.

The muted pop of a suppressed shotgun to his right was all he heard, but the sting of something striking his face was intense, worse than a hornet sting. "Ach! What in — " he choked up when he caught sight of the green-clad figure aiming some kind of long gun at him from ten meters. As his right hand went for his Makarov pistol, both of his legs gave out and he collapsed into the rose bush to his left. Before his hand could even touch the pistol, he had lost control over his arms. He thought (partially correctly) that he had been poisoned, but the agent he was struck with was nonlethal, as he would find out in four hours when he awoke.

"Sweet dreams, asshole," the guard barely recognized the English of the lead guy with the curiously-silenced shotgun. The guard thought that suppressing a shotgun was a myth…

-x-

"He's down," Toni said as she brushed his eyes closed, given that he had fallen unconscious with them wide open. The tranquilizer / temporary paralytic dart was still stuck in his cheek, which would be handy evidence of him getting screwed if he realized it was there.

Moira reached down to his holster and withdrew the Makarov pistol. "Collectible," she said after she disarmed it and dropped it in her left-leg drop pouch.

"Clint, make entry," Hess ordered.

Before Clint could even open the door, the door opened and wrenched his arm toward a lady in a nightgown. "Who are you? And why are you making such racket?" she asked in German.

"We are mercenaries, here to take you home," Clint said his rehearsed line, given that he did not speak a whit of German.

"English?" she asked after a moment.

"English," Clint answered.

"Good. Your German is atrocious," she said. With a quick heave, she had a 'go bag' in hand and ready to go. "Lead the way."

"Boss, where do we set up?" Clarence asked.

"Fuck it, we'll do it right here," Hess said as he pulled and unlocked the transfer beacon. With two settings changes, it was set up to grab the whole team out of the middle of the road. "Ten seconds, peeps. Bunch up."

"What is this?" Ekaterina asked. "Where your vehicle?"

"We will not need one," Clint answered.

"Two, one, now," Toni reported. For everyone, the world transferred from a cobblestone city street at night to the daytime view of the Boarhound Administration Building in less than a full millisecond.

"What — by God!" Ekaterina shouted. "Where — what — who — " she half-gaped at being in summer weather and broad daylight.

"You are no longer behind the Iron Curtain," Hess said as the group began spreading out from their tight clustering.

Only in broad daylight did Ekaterina have a good look at the troops around her. "By the Lord, what are you people?"

"Mercenaries," Clint said. "We are Sigma Mercenaries. And now we work on getting you home."

"Home? Where is here?" she asked.

"This is our base of operations," Moira said. "You are no longer in the Czech Republic, you are now in the Protectorate of Sigma."

"I jumped dimensions?" she asked, which question caught Hess' attention. "You are working with ComStar?" she pointed to the HPG Array separate of the Administration Building.

"Something like that," Hess said. "If you wish to take a break before we return you to West Germany, it can be arranged."

-x-

The hostage had taken an hour to cool down and a good meal to get her going again, which gave Hess ample time to arrange everything with the West German Department of State. To make sure everything was coordinated better, the American Ambassador to West Germany was roped into the process as well, and would be waiting for them as well.

Hess had no knowledge that the Press would be waiting as well.

The arrival of the precursor beacon had spooked the guards and SPOs in the area of the arrival, but what was more eerie than that was the arrival of the hostage and some six troopers in significant combat gear as well.

"Sweet Jesus," Ambassador Leeks said after the group arrived. The press group from CBS stirred as well, given the sudden arrival and significant arms of the troopers.

The German Secretary of State waved them forward, so Hess and crew moved up, with Moira and Victoria in the lead. "Sir, Sigma Mercenaries reporting hostage extraction successful, returning Ekaterina Pavlik to her home state," Moira said in letter-perfect German.

"Danke," the Secretary of State answered her salute with his own. "Thank you, Sigma, for seeing to this unusual political problem," he said in proper English. "The Bundesrepublik Deutschland thanks you for your fast service."

"We do what we can," Victoria said calmly. She let her rifle hang and pulled her tablet from the TT pouch on the front of her Dragon Scale armor. Two selections and she had the necessary document up. "Sign on the red line, sir."

"This is?" the Secretary of State for the Federal Republic of Germany asked.

"Completion of Contract acknowledgment is the top document, next page is verification of successful rescue," Victoria said.

"Ah, danke, saves me the trouble of filing this through ComStar in London," he said before he signed off on the documents and entered his personal identifier token. "Not only fast and efficient, but saves us an extra trip to London! I will remember this service, frau?"

"Victoria Williams, Callsign Sigma Four," Victoria said.

"Ah, danke, frau Williams. We may be inclined to call upon Sigma in the future, if this is the quality of your services. Now, I believe Ambassador Leeks from the United States wishes to speak with you." The Secretary of State for the FRG gestured to the Ambassador.

The Ambassador stepped up and shook the hands of the entire team, including Moira and Toni. "Now, did I hear the German Secretary of State correctly when he said you guys had accepted the contract, deployed, and signalled successful operation in less than an hour total?"

"You heard correctly, mister ambassador," Clint said. "37 minutes from go-mission to completion, with roughly three minutes on the ground in Chech-ville. Classic bang-and-run, nothing special to it."

"Took us longer to gear up than it did to actually do the mission," Toni said.

"I'm not recognizing your accent, miss?" Ambassador Leeks said.

"Multimage Star Empire, Lyran Commonwealth Territories," Toni reported. "Moira over there is from the Illyaris Star Empire, and the four Sigma Callsigns are Americans."

"Multi-dimensional mercenary unit," the Ambassador said. "Commanded by Americans. Nuts."

"Guilty as charged, sir," Clarence said while Erich and Victoria spoke to the German officials.

"So now what?" the Ambassador asked.

"We go home, circulate in the material," Clarence nodded to the flatbed cart with metal plates and a jewelry box on it, "and use it to help start cleaning up our home planet."

"Begging your pardon, sir, but 480 C-bills is not much in the way of funds," the CBS reporter noted.

"True," Clint admitted. "Everybody starts somewhere, and after we start forming out full combat units, we can really make a difference."

The CBS reporter looked over the top edge of his glasses at Sigma Two. "You mean, this isn't a full combat unit for you guys?"

"Definitely not," Clint said. "We're just four Kentucky Militiamen and a bunch of interdimensional refugees with attitude, and we still managed to slap the taste out of Ivan's mouth. In three minutes ground time, no less, using just one shot from a suppressed shotgun with a tranquilizer dart."

"That makes you the Sigma Command Section," the reporter said. He had two hours to study up on the Mercenaries, and what he had learned from the London bureau chief had been stunning.

"You got it," Clint said. "And, just imagine, if we are the command section, what the rest of the unit is going to look like once we're done."

Without even trying, Clint had magnified the image of Sigma by a factor of ten on international television. There would be more said, but the cameras would view the departure of the Sigma crew with their payment and transmit it to the world. A planet would gasp at the complete science-fiction take on the mercenary force that had just made noise in the Soviet Union, but most importantly, there would be tens of thousands of applications to Sigma within the week.

-x-x-x-

(24 March, Magi Year 14408 / Year SL 8838, 1530 Hours Local Time)
(Hess' Quarters, Administration Building Fourth Floor, Base Boarhound, Terra 232)
(Day 7 of Campaign)

"This is the path to the end of it all / it goes on and on and on / it goes on and on — " Hess was cut off mid-stanza of his recital of the song The End Of it All by Sirenia. The ring of his doorbell repeated after a moment. "Open," he ordered of the door.

Asuka leaned through the door slightly. "Sir, I have Queen's Knight Adelbert Steiner and Princess Garnet Til Alexandros, Queendom of Alexandria, requesting an audience."

"See them in," Hess said as he stood up. At his desk, he did not wear the armor or rifle, but he still had his pistol belt and leg rigs on, which included a large survival knife as well. If shit went south, he had at least some hope of walking away alive, above and beyond Asuka being in the room.

Hess did not have a proper look at the transients when he was passing through the Train a week proper, mainly because he had a tail to extract, but now that he was alone with two of them, they weren't far off from their appearance in Final Fantasy IX. A little less exaggerated in roundness, all things considered, and Steiner's armor had the full chainmail tunic and leggings rather than exposed arms and legs, but the sword and staff were every bit as menacing as Hess expected them to be.

"Welcome to Base Boarhound, Sir Steiner, milady Alexandros. Please have a seat," Sigma One said as they approached.

"Thank you, sir, and no need to concern about formalities," Garnet said. "Despite Steiner's insistence on formality, I prefer Dagger when away from home."

"Your call, milady," Hess said. "Asuka, please grab a round of water bottles for all."

"Will do, sir!" she headed over to the mini-fridge outside the bathroom entry and returned with water bottles for all.

"So, what brings you to the command level this afternoon?" Hess asked as he resumed his seat.

"I have, for lack of an easier way to explain it, two problems. One will assuredly lead to the other, and for now I want to avoid both."

"Okay," Hess said with a nod. "What manner of problem do we speak of?" Sigma One asked plainly.

"If I return home, the Queen has some harsh plans for me," Dagger said. "Those harsh plans could lead to widespread destruction, knowing their intent," she continued, then faltered.

"That is plenty cause to not return home, all things considered," Sigma One sympathized. "The other issue at hand?"

"Despite my explanation, Steiner wants to take me home," Dagger finished her explanation.

"It is my orders from the Queen, sir," Steiner said in his defense. "I must see the Princess safely home."

"I grant you points for irony in an order package, Queen's Knight. Think about it for a minute." Sigma One said deadpan. "Okay, so the operational concept as laid out is you, Dagger, do not want to return home, and you, Steiner, wish to take her home, is my readback correct?"

"Accurate, sir," Steiner said.

"And I guess your present request is for an official ruling one way or another?" Hess asked. "You two are unable to hash this out amongst yourselves?"

Dagger nodded, her mouth tight.

"I beseech you, sir, be upright on this matter," Steiner said.

"Oh, certainly, I shall be upright if you shall be knowledgeable in this affair?" Hess returned the initiative to Steiner.

"I shall try," Steiner answered.

"Very well. Asuka, spare tablet over by the display case. Virtue, set it up for Sir Steiner, pre-load a standard Terran history textbook and the information on the Nuremberg Trials."

"It is set up now," Virtue reported after five seconds, a moment before Asuka got to it.

"And this is?" Steiner asked.

"A bit of a history lesson, from deep into the past of my homeworld," Hess said. "I specified the information on the Nuremburg Trials for a very direct reason, and I want you to keep in mind what you said: these are your orders from the Queen, to return the Princess home so she may be forcibly ensconced as a catalyst to mass destruction. Now, with your order package in mind, remember then that the men at the Nuremburg Trials all said that they were following orders. I'll leave the rest of the history lesson to your viewing, and the correlation to your duty shall be up to your imagination."

"I am not sure I understand, sir," Steiner said as he picked up the tablet. "But I shall try."

"You will understand after you have seen the past for what it is," Sigma One said. "We shall continue this conversation two days hence, 1500 hours, once you have a better understanding exactly what manner of nightmare you are setting up for yourself, Sir Steiner. Review those historical reports, and take them to heart."

"Understood."

"Dagger, Asuka, please remain, I have something to discuss with the two of you. Be at ease, Sir Steiner, this shall not take long."

"Thank you, sir," Sir Adelbert Steiner stood and bowed as was proper.

Erich waited for the Knight to leave and the door to close behind him. "I'll be the first to admit that the lesson I have put to him will be a very hard one to swallow, for more than one reason. Still, history has shown that one of the most lethal forces in Existence is a man who blindly follows orders."

"I will need to see this as well?" Dagger said.

"Not completely required, but it is a solid lesson for someone in a command position. No, I wanted to inform you of your legal protections in this land."

"Legal protections?" Dagger / Garnet asked.

"Indeed. By law, if you say you do not want to leave the Protectorate, you are under no obligation to leave. This applies to what Steiner thinks of as well: if you say you wish to remain, so shall it be."

"But, the Queen's orders — "

Hess shook his head neg. "The edicts of the Queen of Alexandria have only a miniscule power of persuasion in these lands, and that power does not stretch past the foible of Steiner's sword. The Protectorate of Sigma is a Protectorate of Laws and Honor, not of Men and Might. No person in this land is above the law, and no person shall be denied its protections equally. Sigma defends its own, resident, traveler, or inadvertent immigrant. If you say you are staying, that is what happens. If some punks come looking for you to drag you home, they will become permanent subterranean residents outside the walls."

Dagger nodded silently.

"Regardless, you shall be here awhile longer. I have not yet begun operations to repatriate persons who want to return home, so you may find a worthwhile niche here in the Protectorate beforehand. For now, see to yourself and rest easy. Nobody is going anywhere, willingly or not."

"Thank you, sir." Dagger stood and bowed slightly.

"Two days, at fifteen hundred hours, be back here for the conclusion of this issue. Have a good evening."

-x-x-x-

(24 March, Magi Year 14408 / Year SL 8838, 1615 Hours Local Time)
(Jump Gate Flats, Base Boarhound, Terra 232)
(Day 7 of Campaign)

"These are it?" Equipment Operator Riane asked as she looked over the flatbed truck stacked high with the plates.

"Indeed," Jeff Evans said. "Composite Crystal-Lattice Plates," he continued. "Expensive as holyshit, but effective. The Gate Engines natively won't touch them, the crystal interferes with the jump process and causes the Gate to terminate."

"How many of these are we putting down?" Equipment Operator Giles asked.

"Four truckloads of them. Twenty rows stacked tall, thirty tiles per row, one square meter per tile, 100 kilograms per tile. Sixty tons of tiles per trailer. Overall, these tiles are engineered to withstand the compression from an Assault 'Mech being parked on them, which is perfect for our purposes," Jeff said.

"So we cover the Jump Engine Enclosure, we cover the ground around it, and we can run heavy units over this area?" Riane asked.

"That's the plan, Riane," Jeff said, though only after the fact did he realize the alliteration in what he said and laughed about it. "Anyway, go ahead and drop your trailer here, then bring up the other three. We'll be here all night."

"Aye aye, sir," she said.

"Giles, Orla, you two are in charge of tile preparation and placement. I will handle the Excavator work. I need one of you on the truck, managing the lift-bolts so I can lift the tile, and the other I need on the ground to arrange and align the plates."

"I've got the truck," Orla said.

"Have fun," Giles said as he trotted over toward the jump engine enclosure.

Jeff took a short jog to get over to the excavator for this job. The bucket was still attached, but a shackle point on the bottom of the bucket with a heavy chain would be enough to lift the plates. It had surprised Jeff a bit to see that Caterpillar Heavy Equipment was still big in the Star Empires, but less so surprising that Hess would go with them for Sigma's equipment needs. Building a planet up was a heavy-duty job, and CAT had the reputation for doing just exactly that.

The 320D Excavator rumbled to life after a quick flip of the engine start switch, and once the rumble smoothed out (about fifteen seconds), he was ready to move.

The process involved in placing the tiles was simple. Jeff used the Excavator to pick up a tile, move it to the area, and lower it into rough placement. While the Command Section and the Secret Service had been off building up Sigma's reputation, Jeff and crew had used a road-roller (commonly called a Compactor in the industry) to flatten out the ground around the Gate Engine enclosure. With that done, and with a layer of gravel compacted into the soil to assist in drainage and water resistance, the ground was now ready to add the tiles.

Once the tile was roughly placed, Giles would use a one-hand sledge hammer to smack the tile into proper alignment, then he would use a series of manufacturer-supplied locking latch-clips to attach one tile to the next. In this way, the tiles would be latched to each other to create an interlocked grid pattern that would resist heavy abuse and the ministrations of the Gate Drives.

The first tile went on the corner of the Gate Drive Enclosure. "One down, two thousand three hundred ninety-nine to go," Jeff said into his radio.

"Why, good sir, why do I feel like my parade has just been pissed on?" Giles asked with a chuckle by his radio.

-x-

(60 minutes later / 30 tiles placed)

Backup was pretty much a requirement for this operation, so Mosely Goodwin brought up a different machine with a couple more troops to help move things up.

The lag in the job was the transit time for the excavator to go from the trailer to the destination. Each run was two minutes from pickup to emplacement to back for the next pickup. While this did not seem entirely too bad by the numbers, for 2400 tiles in the job, that would come out to 4800 minutes — 80 hours installation effort for the one excavator. So, with speed in mind, Mosley and one of his troops brought up Telehandlers — forklifts engineered for long-distance travel and high-altitude reach. Now with three machines in play, and two more troops on the ground to get the tiles in place, the pace picked up readily.

The job would still take well into the next day to complete. And that with assistance from some of the Magi Armored Infantry, whose armor could pick up the tiles and move them easily.

Of course, with any job of this nature in play, the mind would wander and devise on its own…

Jeff took a moment to look over the plateau of tiles emplaced, and realized something. Other than the basic base defenses, nothing special was in place to defend this location. If someone ran onto the tile grate, lifted a tile (not impossible — the tiles only weighed 220 pounds each and were slightly more than 2 centimeters thick, mostly titanium composited with Mineral Crystal), they would have easy access to the Gate Engines and their support systems. A well-placed demolition charge could wildcat the fusion engines that fed the Gate Drives, and while that would not wipe the base off the face of the planet, it would certainly put Sigma out of the interdimensional mercenary business for some time.

As with any good Engineer, Jeff lived by a creed: take what you have, make it do the job you need.

A quick look around the area gave enough of a plan. The Enclosure was now buried under the tiles, but nothing was stopping someone from simply driving up to the enclosure and pulling a tile. Anything up top, above the level of the Tiles, would be a hindrance to the unit, but anything below would be perfectly safe until activated. When combined with a history lesson out of World War 1, how trenches had been designed to prevent tanks from crossing certain pieces of terrain, the plan came together perfectly.

"Virtue, begin an operational concept file. Security measure for the Gate Drive Enclosures. Concealed pit traps, ten meters deep, twenty meters wide, to be activated when an enemy steps on the trapped area."

"A concealed pit trap, essentially," Virtue said.

"Yes. Need to determine reinforcing procedures to allow heavy units and equipment to cross the area safely."

"Your concern is sabotage?" Virtue asked after a moment.

"Yes," Jeff said.

"I see. With the enclosure walls made of heavy steel plate, any amount of force needed to punch through by explosive charge would certainly kill someone trapped in a ten-meter by twenty-meter steel box, assuming they survived the drop onto the floor of the pit trap to begin with."

"Recommendations?" Jeff asked.

"Security cameras and remotely-activated claymore mines for the pit traps, in case someone gets inventive," Virtue said. "Naturally, a QRF will be available to deal with any persons trapped by the pitfall. Another option would be to use the pitfall as storage for liquids, say, fusion engine polymer, which would create a water hazard for the intrepids."

"Devious," Specialist One said. "And we can use the Engine feeds to fill our new-found underground storage tanks. Write it up, I'll assemble a plan for implementation tomorrow."

-x-x-x-

(24 March, Magi Year 14408 / Year SL 8838, 1800 Hours Local Time)
(First floor mess hall, Administration Building, Base Boarhound, Terra 232)
(Day 7 of Campaign)

Toni, the unofficial commander of the Secret Service detail, tapped her glass twice with a fork. "Ladies, your attention please," she began.

"Arggghhh!" Lydia said in a rendition of a pirate's voice.

"Who let the amateur loose?" Crystal asked.

"I write my own day-passes from the insane asylum, thank you," Toni rebuffed the Elven lady in the group. "We are gathered here today to discuss something that Asuka inadvertently discovered: the boss is a workaholic."

"Took you that long to figure it out?" Moira asked.

"In my defense, the boss is not very forthcoming with information," Toni said.

"And you sleep with him, so I figure — erk, that didn't come out right," Rasine groused.

"Yeah, you figure I could snoop around after hours," Toni said, referring to her telepathic skills and close proximity to the boss. The Phoenix deliberately did not touch on the unintended perverse connotation that Rasine had cut loose with. "Nope, tried that, the confines of his mind are even stranger than average. Best not to go there."

"Thanks for the warning," Lydia said. "Also, what's there to discuss about the boss being a workaholic? Not like that's a bad thing, really."

"Oh yes it is," Moira said. "Stress kills. Work is organized stress. Work at the level of the Callsigns is immensely magnified stress."

"So?" Sapphire asked, then realized where the Black Dragon's thought was leading. "...Oh."

"Oh, yeah," Toni said between bites of her fettucine alfredo. "The bosses aren't actively trying to burn themselves out, but that is the direction they are headed in a big hurry."

"And this early into the game already," Anastasia said. "And finding Americans crazy enough to do this job isn't easy. From everything I read on the subject, 2015 America is rather pussy. A goodly portion of American civilians crap their drawers when they see someone that is armed and not wearing a police uniform, which would make them wholly unfit to do the job of the Callsigns."

"Tell me about it," Erin groused. So far nobody in the Secret Service had chosen a permanent station, but Erin was leaning in that direction — adjutant to Clarence, such as the job would be.

"Well, the point is, we've found ourselves serving under a rare breed, and we need to make sure that they stay up top and not below ground, follow?" Toni asked.

"Oh yeah, I hear it," Lydia asked. "If nothing else, we probably should mandate a day off or two, somewhere in there, for the command section. Enforce it directly, if needed."

"That might be a challenge, direct enforcement. We're all in way better shape than Hess, but not even I have the physical strength he does," Sidonia said. "The fat guy can literally bench press my weight, plus Toni's weight, plus the weight of a rescue basket, and still have more available. If he says you're moving, chances are it's gonna happen."

"Oh, right," Anastasia groused. She was by far the smallest person in the group, almost too small for her gearset, but her physical conditioning and personal modicum of strength was enough to keep her upright. If the Boss could bench-press two of the average-size ladies in the room, plus a rescue basket, he could likely pick Anastasia up by the back of her shirt and walk with her while carrying her.

"No need to worry about that," Toni said. "Unless you actually physically threatened him or did something to warrant a response, he wouldn't think about using his strength on us. On the other hand, he would certainly try to hoodwink us into either renouncing the inactivity plan or simply dodge our efforts outright. 'For the good of the Protectorate' or somesuch," the Phoenix said with a hint of mimicry of Hess' voice.

"So, what do we do to get the Boss to chill out for a day? Toni?"

"Oh, I can answer that," Asuka said before Toni even opened her mouth.

"I sense a story here," Leonora said.

"Firearms competition," Asuka said. "Oddly enough, Hess gets real giggly when working with firearms from time to time and his mind almost goes zen-quiet when he's looking down the sights. Probably the most relaxing thing he does from a mental standpoint."

"Ah," Toni said. "Never really considered that. Has he said what his preference for firearms is?"

"Long-range rifles, marksman rifles, similar," Asuka said. "The farther the range, the more he enjoys it. This morning, he was using a UMP40 at the maximum range of the underground rifle range, 200 meters, just to see if he could do it." The challenge therein had been using a gun that was designed for 20 to 40 meters engagement range, not 200 meters, to take a shot on a man-sized target.

"May want to include some three-gun competition as well," Rasine proposed. "Clint and Clarence are big into three-gun, Hess and Victoria are more the precision marksmen."

"Multi-part challenge," Asuka said. "Practical skills, three-gun, defensive CQB, long range, mix and match it."

"Southern METARgraphic field should be open tomorrow," Sapphire declared after she checked the availability on her tablet.

"Let's get it set up," Sidonia said. "Shoot comp, some physical workout, practical and combat skills, the works. We'll set up four or five different competition series with a bit of everything involved. Nothing too strenuous, but nice variety. And we have five hours to get everything arranged."

"This is gonna be fun!" Asuka said with cheer. She had no idea that it would also be a very deft challenge, trying to match the Callsigns in firearms combat skills.

-x-x-x-

(24 March, Magi Year 14408 / Year SL 8838, 2030 Hours Local Time)
(Barracks CC7, Base Boarhound, Terra 232)
(Day 7 of Campaign)

Dave Girna considered that he had probably been born in the wrong time, the wrong place, and to the wrong nation, given his natural aptitude at understanding the odd devices around himself.

Where it had taken some a day to properly understand how food was generated on the Trains, Dave learned the control systems in an hour. Other residents of his homeworld had died at the muzzle of firearms; Dave took no more than a week to learn how to properly aim and deploy a revolver. When Sigma One swept through the trains, Dave helped the Charlie Mafia by tracking the big guy's progress using the Train's monitor and security systems.

Now, with a tablet, the holoprojector in his barracks building, a control gauntlet, and the unwitting assistance of Virtue, Dave was stepping his training cohorts through the process of making entry on the Star League Administration Buildings.

"For safety purposes, we must assume that the buildings off the network are compromised," Dave said. "If Virtue cannot survey it for us, we must believe that hostile parties hold the bastion, and we must prepare accordingly."

"Will it be that bad?" Bridget A. asked after a moment. Dave had encountered her once or twice on the train, and though of similar age to he (16 to his 17), the 'professional interloper' had made no moves on her. More was the better, after they had departed the train he had found out that Bridget was a Black Dragon in human form, and unlike Sigma One, Dave did not have unswerving faith in the avian nonhumans. So far nothing serious had happened, but the rumors and tales were far too persistent and plentiful to assume otherwise at this point, lack of hard evidence notwithstanding.

"It will be bad enough. Of the Command Centers, nine Base Administration Buildings, one Continental Administration Building, and the Planetary Administration Building are all unreachable by our lovely Virtue. At least two of those bases had no walls, and at least one of those bases was last known to have walls but the gates were open. That would mean easy access for any number of unsavory parties to command facilities we need control of going forward."

A projection of the world showed the bases highlighted in green, and the off-air bases highlighted in red.

"And there are the other bases that are online but are occupied by gangs," Nolan said. He had signed up as an Infantry Grenadier, a trooper whose specialty was the use of grenades. Dave had heard of such explosive devices on his homeworld, considered a poor-man's nonmagical area weapon, but they were often considered very hazardous to the user. In the here and now, every one of the active troopers carried grenades, and that included Sigma One.

"Aye, we will need to deal with them as well," Dave acknowledged the point. "This is the Master's planet now, there is no room for roving bands of ruffians."

Dave swiped one view of the Administration Building away for a view of the Continental Administration Building. Technically, Base Boarhound Admin was the Continental Admin for the Northern Continent, which is where Dave was subconsciously focusing his attention. The Continental Buildings were larger overall, wider mostly, with more rooms per floor and extra reinforcement on the VIP quarters. Sigma One had taken the Command Quarters, which was double-fortified with a layer of Titanocrete for an outer wall, battlemech-grade Ferro Fibrous armor as a second layer, a shock-absorbing cellular baffle, a ceramic layer to defeat shape charges, another layer of Ferro Fibrous armor plate, and lastly a Titanocrete inner wall with standard drywall inside it for decoration purposes. Technically, the walls around Sigma One could defeat a Battlemech's Thunderbolt 20 missile system, the heaviest known missile weapon in Existence, but could not stop an armor-penetrating bomb.

The defense was all a red herring to the Girna family members, though. Dave had no interest in breaching the defenses by force; he wanted to break and enter by way of his stealth and movement skills. If he brute-forced his way into the room, he would be defeating his own purpose and probably be shot before he could speak with Sigma One on a matter of critical importance.

"This is not going to be pleasant, especially in the face of determined resistance," Anemone A. said with some trepidation. Her weapon and physical skills were good, but she was deathly afraid of the grenades, so the Basic instructors were holding her in training until she had that much drilled out of her. Her reason for being in the unit was less than honorable in Dave's opinion, she was only out for some finance, specifically 200,000 C-bills so she could start her own business. A pay voucher did not strike him as any manner of lofty purpose, but to each his (or her) own.

"Hence my search for weaknesses, such as this," he highlighted the fourth floor balcony. "Under normal circumstances, there would be no hope for a helicopter-borne assault on the fourth floor balcony, or even for a landing on top of the administration buildings. Any troupe foolhardy enough to try would be erased from the sky faster than a shotgun downs a bird."

"Ah-ha!" Helicopter pilot-to-be Brianna groused. "They do not have control of the facilities, or at most, will have manual control over one or two turrets. We can hit the admin building from the top and sweep down through the building, rather than try to fight our way up the floors."

"Or better still, we can do both," Helicopter trainee Harman E. said with a smile. "We land a strike force up top, but we also push in from the ground with APCs or IFVs, sandwiching them from the top and the bottom. Maybe use teleportation magic or Gate Drive placement to land in the middle and strike them from within?"

"Absolutely clever," Dave Girna said. "Virtue, is that a possible tactic?"

"We have the equipment necessary to make it happen," Virtue answered.

"Then the optimal path would be to land here," Greenhorn Girna said as he highlighted the corners of the fourth floor. "These corners are natural blind spots, with the security systems engineered to look over the heads of troops that were to land here. The opposite wall cameras could see them, but in an assault operation, the security group is unlikely to be paying attention to an expected-safe area such as the fourth floor."

"Assuming they actually have control of and use the security systems," Justin G. pointed out.

"It is the necessary assumption, good sir," Dave said. "The alternate would be to land inside the rooms on the fourth floor and to sweep out from the rooms, which would need to be evaluated on a mission-by-mission happenstance — some of the enemy have ignored the fourth floor, some use them as quarters, others use them as prison cells."

"Once we are inside, the game is up," Rita H. said with finality. She had signed on as an Infantry Grenadier, and declared herself a 'life operator' — she intended to spend pretty much her entire 650-year-average Elven lifespan in service to the Sigma Mercenaries. She also wasn't shy about looking for personal relationships (deliberately plural on her part), though Dave wasn't playing that game. His aim was far higher up the totem pole than an Elven lady, he wanted to see if he could infiltrate a Princess' quarters on his homeworld and woo her. (Realistically, Dave knew it wouldn't happen, but the fantasy was worth the effort, he figured).

"Aye, once we are inside, milady, but getting within is the first and most pressing challenge."

"Battle Armor," Grace X. reported.

"Oh?" Dave asked.

"Battle Armor, similar to the Magi Armored Infantry, but an older system. If we had Battle Armor, we could force entry with only minimal threat to ourselves, and we could eliminate enemy strongpoints before they bogged down the assault teams." For the bulk of the trainees, they heard the voice but did not see her. Grace X. was in the Helicopter program, mainly because she was physically too small to be in the Infantry. She stood roughly 5'2", maybe weighed 95 pounds, and was proud that she wore a dress size of 1. Quite literally, more than a few of the Secondary Academy students were larger than her in every physical measure except age. Conversely, she was also the only person in the room that could break locks and security systems faster than Dave Girna, which put her on an instant respect list as far as he was concerned.

"Don't think you'll be piloting the battle armor, though, milady of the small stature," Nolan said with some humor.

"No shit, sensei," Grace said with all the acidity the small one could muster. "I'll be flying your sorry ass into the hot-zone, though, so make sure you're civil about it."

"Aye aye, milady," Nolan said with a smile.

"A solid strategy is a requirement for any good operation," Drill Instructor Bernard said from the back of the cluster. "Still, your days of assaulting the other garrisons on this planet are long into the future. Those days are those days, and today is today, whereby none of your tribe have earned a placement in advanced training. The night-light is wasting, Greenhorns, and I don't hear enough snoring to constitute proper rest. I suggest you all get friendly with your bunks, including you, Dave."

"Aff, Instructor," Dave said as he cleared the holoprojector. His eyes lingered on where the projection had been, and the knowledge of what he knew he would have to do to break and enter the quarters of the Callsigns. That day would come soon enough, he figured.

-x-x-x-

(24 March, Magi Year 14408 / Year SL 8838, 2300 Hours Local Time)
(Hess' Quarters, Administration Building fourth floor, Base Boarhound, Terra 232)
(Day 7 of Campaign)

Toni entered the quarters and was unsurprised to find Hess behind the desk, going over documentation. "Late-night preparations for tomorrow, sorry I'm running behind," Toni explained herself.

"No concern, I had heard you wanted a meet with the Secret Service team," Hess said.

"Any word from Vash?" Toni said as she started removing her defensive gear, starting with the ACR.

"Aye, he reports he is at the first destination, official meeting begins tomorrow at sunup," Hess said. "So far, the people aren't too hostile to the thought of what he has to say, most of them want some semblance of their normal lives back."

"That's not what I expected," Toni said. "Still, it's a mostly-intact town, not a gang hideout or city ruin."

"We do what we can, and it starts by bringing order to chaos," Hess said quietly.

"Uh-huh," Toni said as she shrugged out of the Dragon Scale armor. Much as Hess had indirectly suggested to them, with some work it was becoming easier and easier to wear the full load. Her legs were less sore today than they had been after she started wearing the full gear. "Did you leave me any hot water tonight?" Being a Phoenix, Toni detested cold showers, which meant she either had to wait twenty minutes after Hess had his shower or she went first.

"I put in a maintenance upgrade request for a larger hot water heater for this room," Erich said. "If there is someone on the base with the skills necessary to install it, we should not have the problem any further."

"What about you?" Toni asked, surprised that Hess wasn't throwing himself at the problem.

"I'll be the first to admit that I suck at doing anything plumbing related. Water is my natural opposition; electricity is my friend."

Toni giggled at the severity of his description, and more so that part of tomorrow's relaxation operations included several water hazards.

"And the group from the train today?" Toni asked, given that Asuka had briefly mentioned some kind of issue.

"Strange times, strange wrangling. At least one person in that group deliberately does not want to go home, for purposes of avoiding mass destruction."

"Okay then," Toni groused.

"Still, I think they are certainly capable, and at least two or three of them want to learn some of what we have to offer, so for now they are going to fold in to the unit as basic recruits, and they'll work their way into advanced positions like the rest."

"Nice," Toni said as she hung up her H-Harness / Pistol Belt / Leg Rigs on a second hangar. Due to the way the Dragon Scale went almost to tunic length, nobody could wear a pistol belt on the bottom belt grommets that was shorter than a common Elemental (4), so all the Secret Service troops had set up their pistol belts and leg harnesses the same as Hess had his, which was quite a bit heavier than anyone else amongst the Militiamen had done so.

"Anything interesting happen on your end today?" Erich asked.

"Oh, the Secret Service troops came up with a good, solid plan for tomorrow. And, before you begin any protests, it involves you as well."

"Listening," Erich said.

"By mandate of your security staff, you are taking the day off," Toni said deadpan.

"Really," Sigma One said, looking sideways at her.

"Don't even try, or Sidonia and I will drag you down to the METARgraphic field for it," Toni cautioned him.

"I surrender," Hess said with both hands up in the classic surrender position. "What brought this on?"

"You're burning it too hard, and everyone knows it except you. Time to act like you give a crap about yourself."

"Fair enough, what's the plan?" Erich asked.

"Oh no, I'll hold that for tomorrow morning," Toni said as she made for the shower room. "There will be no morning PT, you'll be moving most of the day anyway."

"This makes me wonder where exactly this is going," Hess said mostly to himself.

---

Author's Chapter Afterword:

Things are starting to go into motion that are not strictly to plan, but are definitely going to change things in the future.

First off, Vash the Stampede and his two tag-along insurance agents are going to have some fun out there in the wastelands of Terra 232. The big thing for them will be determining who they can talk to, and how to convince them that joining Sigma is the way to go. I think the first couple negotiation sessions will be part of the mainline, but I'll eventually break it off into his own side-story.

Next, with the recruits in training and all that, soon you're going to see the first graduates of the Basic class and personnel rotate into the advanced training and placement. Also, as of next chapter, you're going to see some flying menaces in the sky — the Apache IIM R3. No gunners yet, so the qualified pilots will be trading off piloting and gunnery, but the crew situation will improve.

The other thing going on worth mentioning is the rebellion by Akira. I won't put any spoilers in here, but wait until you see what kind of subjects he registered for voting. The absurdity of his attempt is only matched by the props he will be getting for the vote subjects he placed.

Now, as to Dave Girna in the second to last section, be advised that what you are seeing is something entirely different from average, but don't let the obvious expectations fool you. There shall be a very strange outcome to his actions. Also, the Girna family is part of a campaign series that will be better explained at the time he makes his moves.

Don't think I have anything else major to say right now.

NEXT UP: The day off for the Militiamen turns into something of a learning lesson for everyone involved.

---

Review Replies: Four reviews for Chapter 7! Awesome!

Knives91: Room Clearing is something I don't think anyone likes doing, because it forces close quarters. Still, it is a necessary skillset as is shown repeatedly in this story.

Holy Dragoon: I will admit that I have played that game before, but I was not trying deliberately to invoke those principles.

Sajuuk: Don't worry, the beacons will be thoroughly explained and used in multiple story sections and side stories to come.

As to Research and Development, Sigma will be doing a huge amount. Just wait and see :)

KPheonix: Don't worry about the stupid shit, the Grand Council is full of stupid and they have a fondness for shit. Or is it full of Shit and fondness for Stupid? Not sure offhand, will have to check my notes...

The thing with the Grand Council and the Executors is a complex one. The Executors are the top of the Star League, technically, but they are supposed to take orders from the SLGC if a proper resolution is passed. For all practical purposes, though, the Executors do not answer to the Grand Council and the Grand Council flaunts their relative immunity from Executor reprisal at every available opportunity. This does include pissing on an Executor's pet project, of which Sigma would count.

Vash and the Insurance Girls were only on the train a week or so before Hess came through. That said, he is long on criticism and short on solutions, which is not unlike his role in the anime. What he fixed in the show, he did so mostly by accident, not necessarily by direct action or intention. In this case, though, he had a golden opportunity to stop the scythe before it is set in motion. How well he will fare, that is yet to be seen.

The necessities of modern urban warfare forced the Militia to train hard for their jobs with the Claiborne County Sheriffs. Conversely, this training put them far ahead of a lot of the residents of the Train, and will serve Sigma well in combat standards to come. More is the better, they will need it.

The first mission was a luck run, this second mission was a bit more thorough, but will have some very unexpected consequences. You'll see some results in the next chapter, trust me :)

As to Hotaru and Final Executor Hess, well, the other Executors take bets but the match will never occur.

THANK YOU ALL FOR THE REVIEWS! I'm enjoying the feedback and it helps with how things are going!

---

The Gripe Sheet:

No gripes. Much thanks to Sieben Nightwing, Takeshi Yamato, Necroblade, and One Village Idiot for the logic trapping and grammar / spellcheck work!

---

Footnotes:

(1): Collective refers to the pitch control of the blades. More collective means a more severe blade angle and more lift per blade rotation. Helicopter altitude and forward speed is controlled by a combination of forward tilt, collective, and blade RPMs.

(2): Tribute to JoeCartoon and their 'Frog In A Blender' animation from the dark old days of the Internet. The author advises caution when operating at JoeCartoon, because it has some pretty hard content. On the other hand, if you fancy yourself a real Internet animation lover, the Frog In The Blender is one of the first interactive comedy Flashes out there and is worth watching at least once. Just don't say I didn't warn you.

(3): Quick Response Force.

(4): Elemental in this case is referring to the Magi genetically-engineered persons of the Infantry phenotype that are larger and genetically more apt for physical traits than common humans. 3 meters tall is considered average amongst Elementals.

---

Included Works:

—Real Life Armaments — too many to name, that is most of the arsenal shown.
—Real Life Combat Gear — the vests and gear carried by the Militia troops are easily constructible from stuff you can buy on Amazon or Cheaper Than Dirt. No, Seriously, Look it up. Do a search for "UTG Modular 10-Piece Complete Kit", and you have a good look at a starter kit for any serious gearhound.
—Real Life Concepts
—Real Life Time Period: 1930s New York City (Shown in Chapter 2, referenced in chapter 3)
—Real Life Equipment: The Caterpillar equipment showcased in this chapter is based on real life designs or equipment from said manufacturer.

—Real Life Mythology: The Phoenix race of beings are derived from the mythological Phoenix (Egyptian) and Thunder Bird (Native American). That said, I have made some serious modifications to the whole principle that will be revealed in coming chapters.
—Real Life Mythology: The first of many Valkyrie have joined the blossoming Protectorate. That said, do not confuse the Valkyrie with the term Valkyria — separate work, separate purpose. (Shown in chapter 7)

—Personal Works: The Star Empires are mentioned briefly here. Additionally, the Magi Empire is named specifically.
—Personal Works: The nations of the Jokers Wild are mentioned in Chapter 6. There is a very good reason for that.
—Personal Works: The Star League is a derivation of the Star League from Battletech, but founded by Queen Sora Serenity (Executor-Queen Sora Takenouchi).
—Personal Works: The Executors are specialized Mages who have transcended a minimum of twice (Gods and Goddesses are a minimum Transcendance of once) and are specially commissioned to defend life and honor amongst the Star League territories or member states.
—Personal Works: The 10mm Kurz cartridge is a shortened / lower velocity / lower weight version of the 10mm BG round, developed by the Magi for 'crowd pleasing' against large masses of Negaverse troops, most of which were unarmored during the Star Empire Wars. It quickly became a favored heavy machine gun round for multiple purposes after the fact. (Shown in Chapter 1)
—Personal Works: Gerald Lightbringer is most famous for his participation in my Jokers Wild series, but his history is far stranger than either story properly shows. (Last seen in chapter 5)
—Personal Works: The last section of Chapter 6 makes it clear that the Jokers Wild, Sigma, and Multimage Chronicles are interconnected at multiple levels. This WILL come back to haunt everyone involved, in multiple ways.

—Anime General: the oddball hair colors, especially endemic to nonhumans.
—Anime General and D&D: the nonspecific concept of Elves, Nymphs, and Sylphs.
—Anime Trigun: Vash The Stampede, Millie Thompson, and Meryl Strife took the wrong train, ended up hanging out, and now are tagging along with the Militiamen.

—Game: Battletech: You are starting to see some serious discussion of Battletech units and force concepts in this chapter. They will become more prevalent as the story marches on. (Happens off and on.)
—Game: Dungeons and Dragons (First Edition): A lot of the spellcraft will be drawn from D&D as well as other sources to be named.
—Game: Dungeons and Dragons (First Edition): The concept of the Dragons of many colors is drawn from the D&D First Edition
Monster Manual. Some mods were made (the Platinum dragon is not unique, and the Eternal Dragon is a wholly new class).
—Game: Final Fantasy IX: The player cast of the game (Zidane, Dagger, Steiner, Freya, Vivi, Eiko, Red, and Quina) are residing in one of the dining cars, but do not have a role as of yet. That has changed as of this chapter.
—Game: Infantry Online (Sony Online Entertainment): The CAW from the early section, and named in the stinger, is a different-manufacturer version of the Kuchler A6 CAW. (Shown in Chapter 1)
—Game: Call Of Duty MW2: The Remington ACR in use in this story is based on the Magpul Masada / Bushmaster ACR / Remington ACR in use in said game. Hey, even if it was pooh-pooed in real life, someone in an alternate dimension would do it right, ne?

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Contracts Executed in this chapter:

0002: Offer from a Adult, Female (39) Single Person Tradesman from Nuclear Era (1950 to 1980) for Non-Hostile Rescue mission Political Prisoner Extract
Sorties: 1

Contract Special Requirements:
Classified: Not Classified
Unit Type: Mechanized Infantry
Ammo Expenditures: Full Ammo Expenditures
Minimum Requested Units: 2

Pay is 484.8 in Materials or Metals and Gems or Jewelry
Salvage is No salvage rights
Kill Bounty is None