A/N: As an FYI, I've gone back and revised the entirety of this work with updated chapters correcting a lot of mistakes and typos and (hopefully) improving the writing and flow.

Chapter 18: Preparations

October 9, 3025

Unclaimed Space

Mandalas System

Kevin Sandris pushed forward on the throttle a little hesitantly, lurching the Wasp into motion. The BattleMech thundered forward faster than he expected towards a small barn. He jerked back on the joystick, rotating the torso away from the oncoming collision. No, the pedals! Panicking, he stepped on the left pedal to turn the 'Mech, but too late. The light 'Mech's rotation jerked to a halt as the gyro detected the coming collision and compensated.

Kevin was thrown forwards in the restraints at the abrupt stop, then looked out as the image died and interior lights came on. With a wash of pressurized air, the cockpit slid open and Commander Donavan looked down from outside the crude simulator.

"Not quite the same as an AgroMech, is it?"

He pulled off the neurohelmet, which stuck to his sandy-blonde hairs, and shook his head ruefully. "No, sir. It's just so… big."

Donavan nodded sympathetically. "I know. But keep at it. You have until we reach Rockwellawan, then I'll decide if you or your friends have what it takes to stay on."

The ex-farmer nodded, his face set in determination. "I understand. And if you don't mind, sir, I've more practicing to do." He tapped a command into the console and the hatch swung closed again, resetting the simulation.

…

Donavan managed to catch Sumire in the lounge's cafeteria before she finished eating and slid into the seat across from her at a long table with his tray. She looked up. "So, how are the farmboys?"

Donavan speared a piece of steamed broccoli on his fork and chewed on it thoughtfully. It was nice having fresh food for once. He swallowed and answered the question. "Hard to say. One or two of them might get the hang of controlling a BattleMech, but that's a far cry from being able to fight in one. Turning an autocannon that can level a house on your fellow man is not a small thing, and doing it while those same weapons are firing back at you is something else altogether. A gun doesn't make a soldier any more than a 'Mech turns you into a MechWarrior."

Sumire shrugged. "I wasn't counting on any of them panning out." She took a final bite of her own broccoli, leaving her potatoes untouched. "So, next is Sacramonte?"

Donavan swallowed another bite. "Yes. The most stable JumpShip route to get to Panzyr is to follow the trading route down and up through the Directorate, and those are the planets most likely to have supplies, anyways."

Sumire stared down at her neatly organized tray, and Donavan watched her with concern. "You okay?"

"Yeah." She met his eyes and forced a small smile. "This is not my first long campaign. But last time, we took a beating on Fjaldr, and we'd only been fighting pirates, not regular armed forces."

He winced. "I can't promise this will be any better. But it's our only path forward, so that's what we're going to do."

"I know." Her smile turned wry. "Normally it's me taking the practical approach. I'm just not used to having so much to lose." She closed her eyes for a moment, then nodded. "It is the only way forward. So that's what we'll do, and one way or another we'll make it through. But now my shift is starting. I'll get you safely to Sacramonte. Getting the best pilots and equipment there is on you, Commander." She stood, graceful as always, collected her tray, and walked away.

October 16, 3025

Unclaimed Space

Sacramonte

Donavan looked out the Argo's cockpit in consternation. "That's Sacramonte? I thought there would be more… something. From what I've heard, this is supposed to be the main trade corridor between the Magistracy and the Aurigan Reach."

"It is, Commander." Darius pointed to the apparently barren rock. "There aren't many people and the climate sucks for agriculture, so they just dug underground."

Donavan looked skeptical, but nodded. "I guess we'll find out."

Six hours later, Donavan's boots crunched into the red dust of Sacramonte. Thanks to the Star League's efforts, the planet had been terraformed enough that the air qualified as breathable, if barely. And there was proof they weren't alone on this rock—two other Leopards had detached from the JumpShip and headed down, and were now parked on the duracrete landing pads next to them. A lurid red neon sign was the only sign of life, pointing to a freight elevator barely distinguishable from the dust. Donavan, Darius, and Yang stepped onto it and engaged the controls, which rumbled the aging mechanism to life.

The lift descended further than Donavan expected before opening up into a large hangar. A long central road passed by stalls divided by corrugated metal. Samples of goods were carefully laid out in rows, with locked storage bays guarded by no-nonsense people with body armor sporting thin ceramic ablative plates for modern energy weapons laid over traditional flak armor weave for more common ballistic weapons. They packed vicious heavy needler rifles that would tear a man apart effortlessly, and if by some chance they ran into someone with ablative armor, they wore autopistol slug throwers as backups. These were serious traders, not folks to be messed with on a whim.

The nearest guard approached warily. "Everyone gets searched, no exceptions. If you've got weapons, turn them over and we'll hold them for you until you leave. And trust me, it's better to tell me before I find them."

Donavan glanced at Darius, who shrugged. "We know the rules, and we're clean. Search away."

After a very thorough search, both electronic and otherwise, they were cleared to move further inside. Darius, who had passed through before, led the way through to a small, smoky bar at the back, while Yang broke off to start looking at supplies. To Donavan's surprise, while the lights were fairly dim to accommodate some serious drinking, there was a light source over every table, leaving everyone clearly visible to the guards at the door. These people were taking no chances. "I put in a couple of calls once we hit the system. Grab a free table and I'll see if we've landed any fish. There are quite a few candidates here."

Donavan nodded and selected a table with a clear view of the door and settled in. A waiter passed by and he ordered a few virgin drinks—he didn't like the thought of being intoxicated around this many weapons, especially without a weapon of his own.

It didn't take long for Darius to return with a young man. He was a good-looking kid, late twenties, light hair, and a firm handshake.

"Hi, I'm Stephen Gallas."

Donavan quirked an eyebrow as Stephen took a seat across from himself and Darius. "Gallas? As in, House Gallas?"

"That's right, sir. We were a minor offshoot of the family with small holdings on Itron II, not the capital, Itrom III. For the family's work running a small subsidiary of the Gwendor-Dorwinion Cartel export business, Lady Gallas awarded my father with a Wasp BattleMech and granted ownership of land on Itrom II."

"Fair enough. So, what brings you here?"

Stephen shifted uneasily. "My father retired years ago and passed the Wasp, and my family's obligations and oath of fealty to Lady Gallas, to me. When the Coup happened, Lady Gallas managed to get a call out to us, but we had no DropShip and I had the only 'Mech on the planet. The Directorate sent a DropShip over and threatened to destroy my family's lands if I didn't surrender. There were three of them. I delayed as long as I could, but once Lady Gallas formally accepted the Directorate's rule I had no choice but to stand down. They said that the Directorate nationalized all 'Mechs and took the Wasp away from me as soon as I powered it down. My family has been blacklisted ever since, and the workers on our lands are close to starving under all the new taxes, so I jumped to the next system over and have been looking for work to support them."

Donavan was taken aback by that flood of information. "I take it you haven't had much luck?"

Stephen shook his head mutely.

"Well, a friendly word of advice—don't start a negotiation by explaining how desperate you are. You're dispossessed. Everyone already knows you're desperate. And you're not likely to get someone to pay you to watch their back by making them feel sorry for you."

"Uh, thank you, sir."

Donavan rubbed his right temple absently. "So, tell me more about your experience with the Wasp. How were you trained?"

"By my father, sir. He was trained by tutors from the House Gallas Guard when we received the 'Mech."

"Any practical experience?"

"Well, I supported the planetary militia in a few battles against pirate raids."

"Uh huh. Well, leave Darius your communicator frequency. We'll be in touch in the next few days."

Stephen took his cue and stood. "Thank you, sir."

Darius led the man away and after a few moments sipping on his drink, Darius returned with a short, athletic woman with large, slate-gray eyes and an easy smile. Despite her youth, left leg was a prosthetic from the knee down, and she made no effort to hide it.

"Hello, I'm Donavan of Donavana's wolves. And you are?"

She took a seat. "Aadya Mehra, callsign Mockingbird."

"You're young for a mercenary. How did you wind up out here?"

She shrugged. "I'm from Umgard in the Reach. It's a nasty place - its two moons cause volcanic turbulence that creates a nasty atmosphere that corrodes everything. I wanted out, so I worked hard in school and got a free ride to any university in the Reach for engineering. But I wanted to do something. All my time in school taught me that there's nothing happening in academia, everything is too focused on war. And looking out my sealed and treated window to the poisonous sky, I knew I didn't want to hide inside forever. So I went to the Ngoya-Ogato School of War instead and learned to pilot BattleMechs. I did a few stints with other mercenary groups over the last three years since graduation, but when I heard about the coup I knew I had to go back and liberate my home." She smiled. "It's far more than I could accomplish as a professor somewhere."

Well that wasn't what he expected. "I have to ask - Mockingbird?"

"Some of the students, especially the boys, were dumb as rocks, Commander. I would try to have a conversation and they thought I was making fun of them for using words like "tensile strength."

Donavan snorted. "Oh, Yang's going to get a kick out of that. What kind of experience do you have?"

"Mostly lights and mediums. I've been in quite a few firefights, but in the spirit of transparency, I haven't been in a sustained campaign before."

"Well, leave us your contact info and we'll be in touch in the next few days. Thanks for your time."

After another few minutes Oliveria returned with another candidate. It was another woman, this time a little older in her mid-twenties. Where Aadya was short, this one was tall, with an olive complexion, dark-gray eyes almost black, and a scowl that seemed to be permanently etched onto her face. She had abnormally muscular shoulders to go along with heavy scarring along her left arm, clearly visible from the sleeveless shirt she wore, and pronounced frown lines on her face.

"Hello Commander," she said in a measured voice and extended her hand. Thankfully, she didn't crush Donavan's grip, and they each took a seat.

"Well," started off Donavan, "why don't you take a moment and introduce yourself?"

She nodded. "I'm Agostina Vassos, callsign Dropline. I was born on Cassilda bordering the Magistracy of Canopus."

"I know the place," interjected Donavan. "I grew up on Hastur, the next planet over."

She blinked, uncertain what to make of that, then continued. "My parents were aquaculture farmers but were both killed by a broadwing, an enormous ocean-going creature. I bounced between foster homes until I was old enough to join the military. I was put on a wet-navy ship as a gunner. I was awarded for my efforts in a rescue effort with a slot in the BattleMech training group with the Cassildan Guards. A few years later we were deployed to Hastur to help with pirates and I met Irukjandi Company. When my military term ended, I joined up with them for six years."

Donavan nodded. "I remember them. A respected group. What brings you all the way out here?"

Agostina shrugged. "I didn't get along with some members of the team, and we decided to part ways."

Well, if she was really with the Irukjandi Company then she had to be a decent 'MechWarrior, though he'd want to follow up exactly what happened at the end if he could… though odds were he wouldn't be able to in time.

"Well, thanks for coming by. Please give Darius your contact info and we'll be in touch in the next few days."

She gave him a final nod and left, after which Darius brought in yet another candidate, a thirty-something man of Asian descent, who took his seat without a word.

Donavan glanced at Darius, who shrugged. "So, you're a pilot?"

"I'm a MechWarrior."

"Without a BattleMech," Donavan pointed out mildly. "What kind of experience do you have?"

"Lights only, but lots of it. Locusts, Wasps, Stingers, even a Firestarter for a time."

Donavan leaned forward. "That's a wide range. How'd you get all that time?"

The man didn't budge. "No comment. I've got plenty of live fire combat experience and I'm ready to move on to the next job. Let's leave it at that."

"I see. Well, leave us your com frequency, and…"

…

Almost an hour later Donavan sat back with a sigh, toying with the empty glass on the table. "Well, what do you think?"

Darius sat with his elbows on the table. "I don't know, Donavan. Castoffs, pirates, and the desperate. Not the kind of people I want to kick off a campaign with."

"I know. I'm not enthusiastic about any of these prospects, either. But we both know a 'Mech can take a hell of a lot more of a beating than a pilot can. It's only a matter of time before we need more pilots, even if we don't lose any."

"It's your call."

The Commander stared off into space, turning it over in his mind. "I'm most interested in the engineer, the Aurigan, what's-her-name. The only other prospect worth checking out was the ex-Irukjandi Company member. Those guys have a good reputation, and they wouldn't have let her join if she wasn't a solid pilot. See if you can find out why she left them if you can. Let them know to report in tomorrow and we'll give them a shot."

He stood up and stretched. "Come on, let's go see if Yang had better luck."

…

Outside on the landing pad, Yang directed a dozen dockhands carrying crates of missiles and autocannon shells into the waiting hold of the Leopard. Donavan waved. "Yang, got everything under control?"

"Yup! This is a good spot for supplies—we got quite a haul. And would you believe it, I got some parts for the Spider! It cost a fair amount, though; prices are starting to climb with tensions so high."

"Well, I'm on my way to see what we can do about paying for all of this."

A few minutes later the Commander and XO were in the small operations room aboard the Leopard pulling up contract lists. Surprisingly, for a ball of rock with a trading post on it, there were a number of jobs available, and the pay wasn't half bad, either. It seemed most mercenaries in the area had been hired by the Magistracy (on Lady Arano's behalf, of course), or the Directorate, leaving them in short supply for the locals. Perhaps the best contract available was by a trader group that amounted to little more than gun runners. Given the increased volume in the weapons trade, thanks to the nearby fighting, the Capellans were starting to poke their noses in to get a sense of the scale of the brewing conflict. Nobody on-planet wanted official eyes getting in the way of lucrative trade, and the job was to ambush their next scouting expedition. Word had gotten around that the Capellans had gotten their fingers burned on Kimi, so the expectation was for a lighter force.

The other job that caught his eye was escorting a weapons delivery roughly sixty clicks from the outpost. It was a substantial purchase, and the buyer wanted their identity protected, which made Donavan immediately suspect it was the Magistracy funneling supplies to the Restoration effort.

Both were worthwhile strategically and financially—it hardly bore thinking on what would happen if the Capellans had hard proof of the Magistracy's involvement, and the Restoration needed all the weapons it could get.

"We'll do them both, but the Capellans first. No sense risking them make this any more complicated than it already is."

"You got it."

…

"So let me get this straight - you've agreed to take your lance and wander around until you run into their lance, and just hope you have bigger guns?"

Donavan looked up from his dinner in the lounge at Sumire seated across from him. Without ever talking about it they'd made it a routine and he went to further lengths than he was prepared to admit to make sure he didn't miss it.

"Yes and no," he answered. "To some extent we have to go out there and see, but there's also a lots more that goes into it."

"Like what?" she asked curiously. "This isn't a fight against some backwater militia or ragtag pirates. You're going up against one of the great houses on purpose." She set down her spoon. "I'm… worried."

Donavan reached out and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze across the table. "I won't pretend there aren't any risks, even serious risks."

She squeezed his hand back, then reclaimed her spoon. "I know that, just like there are risks on any job, but I'd like to understand your thought process in taking this one."

"Fair enough." He looked down at his bowl of excellent chicken enchilada soup and tried to arrange his thoughts. "The first thing is to remember that the great houses aren't invulnerable. Their 'Mechs are about the same as ours, and they suffer many of the same constraints we do, sometimes more. And while they do have a lot of men, 'Mechs, and everything else, they also have a lot of territory to cover with finite resources. They may make stupid decisions, but they do at least try not to waste them."

"I'll grant you they're not likely to drop a whole regiment of 'Mechs on you," agreed Sumire, "but all they'd have to do is land a single lance of heavy 'Mechs to wipe you out."

"That leads to point number two - we're not talking about any great house, we're talking about the Capellan Confederation."

"And?" pressed Sumire.

"And while nobody won the Third Succession War, you could make a good argument that the Capellans lost. Rumor has it they've effectively lost all of their capacity to build assault 'Mechs, and even most of their heavy 'Mech manufacturing. They're going to be very careful with their heavies. So the heaviest we're likely to see are 55-ton 'Mechs and lighter."

"That didn't stop them from sending two Catapults at you last time."

"True," he conceded. "But they were only planning to face a single lance of light 'Mechs, not two lances, and they were hoping to let the Kimi locals do most of the fighting for them. If they'd known we were coming, they probably wouldn't have stuck the Catapults out there, at least not without more reinforcements than Kimi was worth. And that leads to my last point. The Capellans aren't here to retake this world, they're scouting. Overall the Capellans are on the defensive, trying to conserve their forces. They're used to being the underdogs, so they try to keep an eye on whatever's going on, but they're probably not interested in a fight. And even if they were, they won't want to piss off everyone on the trade route, and we don't have anything to fight for here. So if they inexplicably come in heavy after all, we can just withdraw to the trading post and they should leave us alone."

Sumire finished a large spoonful of soup then nodded slowly. "So, what do you think will happen?"

"My best bet is that their scouts will find us before we find them. They're going to have more of them, and I don't want to send Mohammed out too far by himself to get jumped by a pack of lights. They'll close in to see what there is to see. They'll have a medium, maybe two, to make sure they don't get walked over by an ambush of lights. Probably Vindicators. We'll trade long-range pot-shots, but this time we'll have the Catapult. It doesn't have the ammo for dragged-out engagements, but its perfect for short skirmishes like this one. Once they take a few volleys of all of our LRM's, plus Glitch's own Vindicator, they'll realize we're willing to fight and they won't win, so they'll withdraw. If we're lucky we'll bag a light 'Mech, but probably not. Honestly, my biggest worry is that Medusa will get himself in trouble."

He nodded confidently. "Don't worry, we got this."

"Unless they drop some Highlanders on you and you all die."

Donavan rolled his eyes. "Yes, unless they drop some Highlanders and we all die."

October 17, 3025

Unclaimed Space

Sacramonte

Despite Sumire's worry as she dropped off the lance in a dusty stretch of nowhere on the edge of sensor range of the Capellans and watched on long-range sensors, the skirmish played out almost exactly as Donavan had predicted.

Somewhat to her surprise, she felt a moment a kinship with the Capellan DropShip pilot distantly circling the rocky, barren landscape, watching her own lance down below. Thankfully, Sumire's lance had Donavan and the heavy 'Mech, and the Capellans retreated before anyone was killed.

…

Donavan was in high spirits as he climbed down the ladder watched over by one of Yang's 'MechTechs. His boots hit the metal deck of the Argo's one functioning 'MechBay and he looked up at the Catapult thoughtfully.

He was still getting used to the differences, which were substantial. The Catapult was quite a bit heavier at 50 tons compared to the Blackjacks' 45, but for all the additional metal, it was about the same height, which made it feel squat in comparison. Its Anderson-21 jumpjets were more powerful than the Blackjack's Whitworth Jetlift models, so the Catapult matched the 120 meter jump range. And its Magna 260 engine was more powerful than the Blackjack's GM 180, meaning they had roughly the same speed, too. Which showed both how fast the Catapult was and how slow the Blackjack was.

"You are pushing too hard," said a voice from behind him, and Donavan turned to see Elena Golubev, the former pilot of the Catapult, dressed in a greasy pair of coveralls and carrying a heavy crate of tools over one shoulder.

"What do you mean?" asked Donavan curiously.

The Capellan set down the box with a grunt, stretched, then pointed to the Catapult's legs, where dark scoring from the jumpjets had marred the armor. "The Anderson-21's break down if you use them too much. The venting is no good - it starts to vent inside and overheat. The Anderson-25's fix this. And there," she added, pointing to the pockmarks in the center torso where LRM's had impacted before the Capellans withdrew. "You are facing forwards too much. The torso is strong, but the cockpit is weak. Turn after shooting, protect yourself from return fire."

"Huh." Donavan considered the 'Mech again as Elena hefted the toolbox once more and headed off in Yang's direction. He turned to watch her as she went, watching just as thoughtfully.

…

"Yang, I wanted to ask you about - hold that thought. What is this?" Donavan pointed to the 'Mech stall where not one, but two Locusts were lined up shoulder to shoulder.

"Pretty great, huh?" said Yang with a grin. "The Locust is narrow enough to sneak two in, though I understand to do it the designers had to make the cockpit uncomfortable as hell."

"That's great work! I take it you finished putting together the second Locust, then?"

"Sure did. It's nothing special, another 1V like Muhammed's, but hey, another 'Mech is another 'Mech."

"Absolutely," agreed Donavan emphatically. "And it's just as well. I don't know if we're ever going to find the parts to get Amir's Spider off the ground again." He nodded to the mournful pile of what was left of the Spider being stacked up for offload to the Argo. "But I also came down to ask about Elena. How are things working out with her? Any problems?"

Yang shook his head. "No complaints here, chief. She keeps her head down, doesn't complain, and works hard. She does do some Tai Chi in one of the cargo bays during her time off, but that's the only thing I've noticed."

"Good, Yang. Good. Let me know if anything comes up. We've got one more job here, then we're headed towards Panzyr."

"We'll have all our supplies loaded up and ready to go by then."

"Great. I'll leave you to it."