Free World Irregulars Omake
Eight Jumps From Dumassas
"Attention children, listen well and listen truly to your big sister!" The sharp, crisp, perfect Star League english of Nadporučík Naděžda Ondráčková of the Free World Irregulars mercenary Company, "It is time for your history lesson!"
There was a shout of "Jasnačka" as three dozen soldiers snapped to attention, mag boots giving off a faint electronic hiss as they ensured the standing ranks didn't go floating off into the relatively empty infantry bay of the Condor class DropShip the pack of infantry dwelled in.
Hair floated in front of Naděžda "Nada" Ondráčková's face and she wondered at the intelligence of not tying back her hair, but with the history recitation and contract coming in the middle of leave… she had to find her peace wherever she could, and sometimes that meant sacrificing dignity to ensure the six and three quarters foot tall woman remained on time to her own lectures.
It was difficult finding body armor that would fit the massive infantrywoman, but she had made do after capturing a stock of Capellan EOD suits during a raid on a- thought for another day, it was time for a remembrance. "You are the newest children to be added to the Canfield Detachment, 3rd Company, 2nd Infantry Battalion, Free World Irregulars, and it is time for you to learn your history. First! We must know our past! We were the Canfield Light Infantry before we became the Irregulars alongside the Collingwood Cavaliers. We specialized in anti-bandit duties and digging out defensive forces with shotguns, grenades, and satchel charges!"
There was a brief shout of "URA!" from the Cetars in charge of each squad of soldiers, said rookies quickly following suit a moment later.
"Enough," Nada spoke sharply, "You have not passed your trials yet, you do not celebrate yet. First, we were created by Founder Ondráčková to address the issue of a bandit stronghold enforcing tariffs onto the laborer population on the planet of Canfield. Do not bother looking for it on a map, it did not have an HPG. ComStar did not record its position."
She took a breath and scanned over the crowd, everyone was listening. Good. She continued, "With that mission came success. The bandits were chased from their holes with flamer and shotgun, and soon the aptly named Canfield Light Infantry offered their service to neighboring worlds and became a Mercenary Company."
"Unfortunately," Nada continued, "A company of infantry in a realm of battlemechs meant we were always hurting for contracts, always requiring currency. It did not matter we were the greatest warriors on foot, we were an infantry company in the Periphery operating out of a heavily retrofitted Fury. We were broke."
She looked around at the soldiers, "And then, we were provided a gift. A Demicompany of Battlemechs had found a pirate base occupying an old Hidden Army arms depot. They did not have the forces to take the base, but they knew the pirates were unable to open the cache, merely using what was left outside the locked doors. And so the Canfield Light Infantry joined with the Collingwood Cavaliers in order to raid an arms depot of the 3rd Canopus Fusiliers."
Nadporučík Ondráčková slammed her mag booted heel onto the DropShip's metal floor, causing a harsh ring to echo through the entire craft. "We accomplished our task and accomplished it well, killing every pirate inside and liberating what we found. An Overlord and Condor Dropship packed to the gills with equipment and supplies, everything we could need to stand and fight. I was a part of this force at that moment and seeing the massive doors open up to reveal our new homes? These very homes we dwell in now? It was as close to religion as I allow under my watch. To think that these forces might have been once intended for use by the foul Usurper against the great General…" Nada scoffed, "It was better they be buried for our use."
She glares at the forces ahead of her, "So hear me, recruits of the Canfield Detatchment, you shall learn from your brothers and your sisters in this company of siblings and you shall grow into strong and cunning warriors to best all who face us. And when you are called to serve, you shall do so with honor and glory! Never shaming our Regiment!"
It was time to finish the lesson, and the massive sergeant knew the exact way to do so. "When enemies have infested the land?" She asked in a roaring voice.
"Ii Dezrădăcinăm Noi!" came the roaring reply. 'We Will Uproot Them' in a common language of the Free Worlds League.
It was good enough for her.
Six Jumps From Dumassas
Thora was swearing and it wasn't hard to understand why.
"Look, I'm just saying, if you're the premier FTL telecommunications order in the 'sphere, you could at least have the decency to stock the correct right kind of snacks!" The Danish Woman angrily muttered at an empty rack of snacks inside an HPG Station's Duty Free under the bemused glares of a pair of ComStar Guards and Militia troopers, sunglasses underneath their hooded robes barely hiding the amused quirks in their eyes. "Look at this! Quilar Chips? QUILLAR CHIPS? These are just budget Corn Chips! We're paying them enough in HPG fees to get our paperwork authenticated and countersigned for the supplies, the Blessed Order could at least stock some HPGingersnaps!"
Kapitan Emek Ramay put down the coffee mug he had been inspecting (Included lid certified for low G and high G environments! Perfect for DropShip use!) and turned to the second third of the Free World Irregular's leading triumvirate. "Thora," He began, "We are in an HPG station's glorified minimart while Twig goes and gets our paperwork stamped so the Clown Car doesn't run out of toilet paper and MRE's. If they had actual corn chips here I'd be worrying about a misjump since we are most definitely not on a major world."
"Oh come off it," Thora replied, "Anaheim's not too much out in the boondocks… isn't it?"
The soft sighs coming from the ComGuard troopers and the way the pimply teenager behind the register sadly shook his head were all the response she needed.
Three floors down
"What do you mean the contract can only cover half the supplies I ordered?" Major Slavomír Rmoutil was not having a good day, first there was the fact he had been in zero gravity for near six months with only a brief pirate raid and time under thrust to break it up, second Clown Car in general and Nadporučík Naděžda in particular has been harranging him regarding having to train rookies in room clearing while in near zero g and their cut short leave, and on top of everything else, a weedy ComStar Adept was sitting across from him daring to say the Contract wouldn't cover the few thousand tons of supplies needed to keep his people from starving!
"This contract," he continued, jamming a finger onto the noteputer with emphasis, "detailed in both exquisite thoroughness and utter completion that all necessary supplies would be covered by our contractor until said contract is completed, specifically for the journey to Dumassas. The journey, I will note, that is currently ongoing."
The Adept glanced around the room at the handful of armed guards and fellow administrative admins for help before swallowing and replying, "Well- yes- but- ah, the account that we have been drawing from to pay for these supplies has started reporting difficulties upkeep everything? I'm sorry?"
Major Slavomír "Trig" Rmoutil took a deep breath in and breathed out, running numbers in his head assuming they stocked every bay full of supplies and gave up any pretense at comfort, they had about 40 days before food ran out from this restock. Dumassas was still, at good clip, around 45 days away, which meant they'd need to resupply at some point before then. Two stops. "Alright, well that is an unfortunate surprise and one that is most definitely not ComStar's fault," Slavomir began with a voice of forced calm, appreciating that the handful of guards had begun removing their hands from the various nonlethal weapons festooned across their robed forms. "But we will need to be certain that we can draw from this fund to claim supplies or else we might have to take a complaint up with the MRB regarding failure by the client to provide adequate support. We're already outside of our normal operating area, on a frankly odd contract, and now this? If this isn't sorted out, I might file a formal inquiry regarding the treatment of my regiment by the client."
The adept sighed, despite the threatening words, they weren't aimed at him or ComStar. Well, at least not the inquiry itself. "That won't be necessary, I am certain the Blessed Order and the Free World Irregulars Mercenary Regiment can come to a satisfactory arrangement with the client and ensure all supplies will be provided and covered as according to the contract." And, Twig knew, the Adept had every intent of making sure it did pan out. If there was an inquiry, and God-forbid, a request for Arbitration, the Adept would be spending every spare moment filling out reams of paperwork in triplicate for however long it took, plus another four weeks on top. Last time this happened, Twig saw the Adept wearing a carpal tunnel brace on their right arm after a few weeks.
"It'd better." Twig muttered, grabbing his noteputer and stalking out, the dismissal in the Adept's tone clear as day. "Or else this entire contract's going to go even further to hell."
Two Jumps From Dumassas
Thora stood at ease in front of Major Rmoutil as the man poured over reports picked up from the gaggle of spies, rumormongers and gossips making up the FWI's excuse for an intelligence gathering arm with the overly fancy name of 'Fidelis'. "You called?"
"I did, what the Fidelis have delivered to me… have you seen these? These rumors?" The man sat across from her, floating behind a desk, legs crossed in empty air as he held onto the bolted town table.
Thora nodded, "About these so called Terrans on Dumassas? Yes, I found them quite… juvenile. Odd, but the exact sort of thing that I would see from some periphery yokels peddling rumors."
"I just got out of having a wonderful conversation with a Mr. Raju Montgomery, Master at Arms for House Arano and he backed up every single point."
Thora paused, "I've heard of him. Veteran Mechwarrior and one not prone to… flights of fancy."
"That's right Kapitan Thora Korg," Slavomir said, "Now, I want you to do something for me, can you do it?"
"I do as I am ordered." The Danish woman replied easily.
"I want you to find out exactly what our contract wants us to do in a place that is claimed by an organization with WarShips. Plural."
Hope you enjoy this little snippet and look into what the Irregulars are doing.
Three Cheers for these dumbasses being dumbasses! And history lessons!