A man out of time, and almost out of time (SIOC)

by cliff.west

You all can thank, or curse, Chris O'Farrell for giving me this idea. An OC/SI gets ripped out of his home dimension when the Dragoons were testing a repair on one of their supporting jumpships. What will happen next, and will it change the whole Inner Sphere?

6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

By Cliff

Fact Checked and Sanity Checked by Drakensis

Editor (that I at least sometimes listen to, so the screw ups are all mine) Drakensis

Avalon City, New Avalon

Crucis March, Federated Suns

Mar 3026.

It was only three jumps between the two systems and going deeper into the Federated Suns and away from the Combine borders to make it to New Avalon from New Valencia. If the group from Blackwell had LF batteries on those jumpships? They could have made the trip between those two star systems in only a few weeks. One of the things that was explained about the difference between a game and this universe was transportation.

A briefing showed Drake the reasons that so many different 'mechs were made within the Inner Sphere and then the briefers focused on the reasons that there were so many different subsystems. Then you had all of the support to get them to work together and that was just in one political group like the Federated Suns. There was a reason that a wiring harness on a Kia car made in Korea didn't fit a Ford-designed car that was made in Mexico.

Drake had been surprised when it was pointed out that a lot of tanks in the books that he brought had 120mm or 125mm guns, but they were all built in different parts of one planet. They took the time to point out the MBTs of the JDF, IDF, German, US, China and Russian order of battles to make a point that he had never thought of in all of the talks about 'normalizing' weapons in the game.

In the Inner Sphere, if there was a need to import parts from more than 120 light years to build something with the current number of jumpships it was going to cause some issues. That 120 light years was 'only' four jumps in the books of jumpships, so that was at least three weeks in travel time as the jumpship recharged between jumps. Oh, but not so fast on that schedule. Then they would have to add dropship travel times from planet to the jump points and very few jumpships moved in a straight line. It was not uncommon for a cargo dropship to take up to six months to cover that distance using shipping lanes.

So, if you needed X part to keep your mech or tank in fighting trim? It could take around six months of travel, then you had to add in the manufacturing time, and then there could be a long waiting list on top of that travel time. In the shorthand of the Inner Sphere, a unit was looking at closer to a year between ordering and the parts showing up at your doorstep and not four to eight weeks. That was as it currently stood, but it was supposed to have been a lot faster shipping when the Star League had been around and all of the worlds with a population of over a hundred million were connected with what today was called a command circuits with the abundance of jumpships then in operation.

Drake was a person of two-day shipping being the norm for anything ordered, and that kind of delay had just blown his mind. The man from Earth didn't know if he could still get his head wrapped around what this universe had to deal with for shipping times. The term was culture shock, and it sucked.

Oh, the joy of zero G, thought Drake as he had to deal with space sickness again. He was thinking about those traveling times as he turned a deeper shade of green.

Franko looked over towards him. "What are you thinking about now?"

The displaced man did a slight shrug of his shoulders. "Just thinking about what you all told me about travel times a few months ago. Who would spend that much time in space?" Drake looked around the dropship and pitched his voice low and held down a burp from his upset stomach. "Still, this one has been a nicer trip this time. And it's a lot faster than if we had been relying on normal cargo shipping lanes."

They only had to buy the right tickets on a space passenger liner working the local space lanes. The man from Earth had been almost giddy when he found out that they would be traveling on a real space passenger liner and that they had whole cabins, yes more than one, to themselves. Even after Franko took the time to say that he was planning on talking with Drake on the trip about a few things, the giddiness hadn't slipped away.

A few days before they took off from the drop pad nearest to the Blackwell facility, he was introduced to the joys of clan grade babble juice. The old beer before liquor, never sicker comes to his mind and it was all a joke; you get sick no matter what if you overdo it.

The day after hangover day, Drake felt… great. It was like he had been ported back into his early to mid-20's in the night. It was during the talk on the way to the jump point that he was told the reason for this little test with the juice. Now it was time to get some work done with the product that he had volunteered for. A good dose of the special juice was a lot like drinking until you blacked out, only once Drake blacked out Franko and the Intel teams assigned to this mission went digging in his head for any information. Preplanning had made sure that one of the head Clan trained doctors was with them and after the data mining was done, he went to work on other areas of Drake's brain-pan. They were protecting the Dragoon investment into this odd man. The head WolfNet Agent and a few others had worked out that the displaced man was on the ragged edge of having a mental breakdown some time ago and after reporting it, a plan was worked out.

It was the 31st century version of having a few years spent 'on the couch' back in Texas of the 2020's with the best shrinks that money could buy. One of the things that Franko was trying to work out was if after dealing with the juice, it might have shaken something else loose in the other man's brain.

"So besides getting things on record, did you find anything else?" It took almost five minutes for the man from Earth to get those few words out from filling the space bag.

His friend didn't even make a face and by now the sound also didn't make his stomach want to join him. "Not really, and as we talked about, Doctor Rose took a look at your grey matter. She thinks that she made some major headway on your nightmares thanks to a thousand years of more experience dealing with what you called PTSD."

Drake has no idea if any of it worked… he just hoped. "Well, I just hoped that no one had a cellphone while I was drunk off my ass. I'm also really thankful that social media is not a thing in this universe." He was making a face because he knew that you never know with Intel types hanging around what they might do… because it would be funny. Intelligence people were known to be more than a little odd in their sense a humor as a rule and tended to believe that begging for forgiveness instead of asking for permission was a viable excuse for their antics.

All the displaced man can remember of the trip were the first two days, the last three days and a few spots in-between for the whole trip to the capital world of the Federated Suns. With his Zero G sickness, he thought that a few embarrassing images taken of him was worth the risk on a trip this long.

Drake looked around a room that looked to have been pulled from a travel magazine for the rich and famous. "This hotel is amazing!" He walked over and looked down… down… down to the massive park spreading out towards the nearby mountains from this part of the capital.

When he felt just the start of vertigo, he brought his eyes back up to see the horizon and after a few eyeblinks the man from Earth felt back to normal.

The huge Peace Park with its artfully wild landscape was bordered by the largest buildings that the displaced man had seen in this universe. They weren't the tallest ones that he had seen in his travels, but where most of his memories were of concrete and steel boxes, the outer edge of the park was lined with buildings that were more artistic in designs, not that there were a few of those shoe boxes, they just were rare.

Franko stood besides his friend but doesn't say a word, he was not wanting to interrupt the other man.

"Is that a river?"

The agent shifted to where the other man was chin pointing. "Well technically we're on an island but I would have to guess that it's either the Chris or Thames Rivers.

The brown-haired man rubs the stubble of a beard he was told to grow on this trip. "I still can't get over how clear the air is over a city this size."

This was not the first time that the agent had been to this planet, and he understood the question. "I asked that same question on my third or maybe the fourth time here. I was told that it's the wind off the Avalon Ocean. Cadbury Island blocks lower-level winds but channels upper-level ones to keep it like this most of the year." He gave a snort and points out the armored glass. "But it does let you understand why they called those mountains the Grand Avalon Mountains."

The other man gave a grunt of acknowledgement as they enjoyed the view. They were just in time to see one of the three moons of New Avalon rise over the mountains in the late evening sky. "Hey Frank, do you know the name of that moon?"

The only one of the pair born in this universe doesn't say something for a few seconds. "I think it might be Avatar."

"Hmmm like the movie, that should make it easy to remember. What to bet that they have a few military bases built into it?'

Now the agent snorts. "Sucker bet."

The group from Blackwell had been booked into a hotel with rooms that were overlooking the Peace Park, and it was 7 stars only because they didn't have 8 stars ratings for hotels like this. They had six bedrooms for the little detachment from New Valencia that all shared a set of common rooms. The ex-NCO had been hoping to see Minuet, at least in passing down on the streets below them. He knew his field craft well enough to know that they could not so much as say hi, much less sit down for dinner together. That didn't mean that it stopped him from wanting to see the woman, despite the risk.

That elation of the amazing suite quickly turned-on the displaced man. They all were now waiting for their boss to show up and get a final meeting before they all jumped into the deep part of the pool. After that first shot of glee had worn off, they had a few days of nothing to do, and by now they all were not looking forward to that meeting. Drake was told that Blake was in orbit and waiting for their turn to make an approach to the capital drop port. If he didn't arrive by a certain time, they would have to go with Plan B and that was a plan that no one wanted to start.

Spring Solstice Party

Davion Palace, New Avalon City.

The party was huge… no, it was a truly massive shindig, like the Oscars, SAG, and the MTV music awards all rolled into one huge show but one that also lasted for a full month. From what Drake understood, this was a normal solstice party for the Davions to sponsor twice a year for the public to enjoy. The group connected with the Dragoons were just a small part in one of the larger tour groups that were enjoying the party. The group from New Valencia all were in their best suits as they followed along with the rest of the tour group as they were briefed on the history of the palace. From the main halls of the public high traffic areas, they were then showed the art museum part of the palace. Drake was starting to enjoy the art on display, he had liked the classical artwork when he had taken a tour of the Louvre Museum during his one Germany tour. The displaced man would admit that he just didn't get what they had called modern art, and he had seemed to luck out that most of the Davion's were of the same mindset.

Drake was looking at a portrait that was about 3m tall and about 1.5m wide of… someone that looked like they were at one time had been very important. Then someone walked up beside him and started speaking in French. It took the man from Earth a few seconds to work out what was said and to gather the required reply ready in his mind. He knew that the delay in giving a reply would mark him as an outsider, but the truth was that he really didn't care one way or the other. He was on a mission and that was all that concerned him.

Quintus Allard looked over to the man that he had seen look up at a painting of his best friend's great grandmother. He had been sitting in the 'art' security room watching this group from the time that they had entered the main building of the palace for today's events. He did not need his people to pick out the special guest for a very unusual and high-level meeting, his own training did that for him.

That was going to be a meeting that he would have not bet good money on ever happening within his lifetime. He had a feeling that things were about to start changing very quickly in at least the Federated Suns, and he was not sure that was a good thing or not. Change made for disorder, and disorder would lead to chaos… and chaos was hard to predict.

It was Quintus' job to predict threats. His feelings on the subject of chaos were obvious.

The spymaster had been very surprised when he had found the note in his jacket pocket while heading home one day. It had been after a dinner in a restaurant, which he had never been to before that night. It was a simple note that had said a meeting needed to be held between The Wolf and The Fox. There were only two people those names could be connected with in this day and age and at the level he worked at. With a quick change of orders, the hover car returned him to his office for a long night of work and sleeping in a nearby room that he used more than the bed in the home he was supposed to use.

Allard had called an emergency meeting with his department to work out how and where the leak might have been for someone to have set this drop up. Then he brought the note up to one Hanse Davion less than forty-eight hours after he had found the slip of paper in his jacket pocket. The last time a Davion had a meeting with someone high up from the Wolf's Dragoons? It had been when they had first shown up out of nowhere looking for work in 3005.

Hanse had agreed to the meeting after maybe taking an hour of thinking about it, and Quintus had gone back to that same establishment that night. He had kept a sharp eye out and knew that eight of his best counterintelligence agents were always in the room with him. He had not been approached and he left the same sheet of paper with a date on it covered by his napkin on the table. He had no idea if Wolf Net was able to get the message or not. That was one of the down sides of using something like a dead drop, you never knew if the data was passed along or not.

Well, he had not known if the connection was made until the flowers showed up to his office later that week. The note on the flowers only said, "congratulations on your special day". He had spent a week and hundreds of man hours trying to track down who had sent the flowers before not so much as giving up, as having to move it to the back burner so that other tasks could be done that held a more immediate need for the Federated Suns.

Quintus had quickly found out what artwork his targeted group would stop at as they moved through the gallery. He also noticed that they kept walking unless one particular person in the group had stopped to look at something around them. MIIO had exactly one full face image of Stanford Blake, and the one stopping to look around was not that person in the image. A man that might be Blake was following toward the rear of that one group but not the one slowing the movements as they walked. So, who was this man that could make the head of the Dragoons intelligence arm react to him and not the other way around? And why were they all keeping pace with this unknown person and not one of the key leaders of the Dragoons? The way that they all moved didn't seem to be a setup of some kind. It had too much of a fluid look to the actions of them following the one male subject.

Allard had left the security room with his own set of escorts and entered the art gallery from a side door a few dozen paces in front of the targeted group. He came onto the target group, and he kept a second group between them just in case things went…active. With a low hand motion to alert the rest of his escorting team of the change of plans. Now he was able to slide in next to the strange man - thanks to them opening the way from the rest of the crowd - and Quintus opened the conversation.

"Que penses-tu de ce tableau?" (What do you think of this painting?) asked Allard.

"J'aime la facon don't l'artiste at fait les yeux. IIs semblent toujours vous suivre dans la piece." (I like the way that the artist did the eyes.They always seem to follow you around the room.) Stated the well-built man with short brown hair and matching short beard.

The reply had been…strained. The French was not that bad, but it was not what you would get from someone trained in it from birth in a noble family or someone who had spent a few years in training to speak it in a formal setting. Quintus was still undecided if this was worthwhile information or not, but it was information that might be useful down the road to the right person.

The powerful noble gave a slight nod to the stranger and then looked to the one that might be the head of Wolf Net, and he pointed off to the far wall and then spoke in Star League English. "If you gentlemen would follow me. Your next meeting is waiting for you."

Blake gave the old styled head nod to the other spymaster and they quickly followed behind the Davion. And within a few steps the Wolf Net team was surrounded by a moving wall of black suited and very fit personnel that seemed to come out of the woodwork. This whole mass of people was moving through a well camouflaged door in the wall a few dozen steps from where it had started.

The very well-hidden door had led to a narrow hallway that then had led around so many turns that it would have confused any attackers without a detailed map in less than a few dozen steps at most. That was one of the reasons that it had been built, because what palace didn't have secret passages? When the group did connect to another hallway, this one was only just wider than an average man's shoulders. Some of the larger escorts had to almost turn sideways to keep walking, also just as designed. When it opened up again, it was right into the teeth of a fully manned security check point that looked like it could take a few full powered hits from a mech scale PPC.

Each person in the group, and that included Quintus Allard, had to be cleared by explosives and weapons detectors. From there the group was taken to an elevator that was both very large and very fast.

Quintus looked into one of the reflective surfaces of the lift at hearing the grunt coming from the man that was not on any DNA database that the palace MIIO office had access to. He was debating if the other man should be removed from this meeting and let him wait with what Quintus 'knew' was the security escort for this team.

The right hand of the First Prince looked at Blake when they entered what was called the Green Room for some reason that was lost to time. When everyone came to a stop the older man spoke in a commanding tone. "All security escorts and weapons must be left here."

Quintus again had his interest piqued when the enigma that was following the two men that he had been expecting to be taking to the meeting with his boss kept walking. Part of the rules for this game was that when someone said for security to stay put, it would. This third person didn't seem to understand the rules of how this game was played. Or maybe he did understand them, but it was Quintus that didn't understand all of the moving parts that the Dragoons were playing with. That last thought didn't make one Quintus Allard very happy; he hated not knowing.

Drake was looking around another checkpoint and he had a feeling that this was not unlike what TSA would do in their wildest dreams. The locals just had higher tech devices to do the most intrusive work.

Then the elevator reminded him a lot of some of the ones in Vegas but large enough for an infantry platoon with rucksacks to use at one time.

Suddenly the thing took off like it was trying to put them into low orbit. This was the next clue that told Drake that he was in way over his head, and he should just shut up and go with the flow that the locals made as they moved around him.

He fell in behind Franko, who was one step behind and to the left of Stanford Blake as they left the escorts behind them. He kind of likes it that way, and this should work as they had talked about last night. His old military training had him getting into this formation out of old habit and it felt comfortable to the man trained in the military arts by the Big Green Machine. Internally the man from Earth was not sure that he was the right person to be tagging along at this level of a meeting. Then again, he had briefed more than a few General-level officers in his time and in his old universe.

How much harder could this be? thought Drake. Oh, crap did I really just think that? I'm soooo getting another birthday card from Murphy. That last thought was chased out of his head as he looked around the room they had been led to.

Drake couldn't help but take long looks at a certain glass structure set up against the farthest wall of the huge room and in an area that looked like a sitting place for meetings among friends. The rest of the room reminded him of about a fact they had said in a half-remembered movie his first wife had loved. It was that the Oval Office in the White House was the best home court advantage in the northern hemisphere. This office was the same, but for a thousand light years around and not just half a planet, but hundreds of different planets. Then there just happened to be three faces he'd previously seen only in the media: Hanse Davion, Ardan Sortek, and (harder to get pictures of, but achievable even without WolfNet agents to help) Quintus Allard - three men who were entirely capable of raking them all over the coals or tossing them into whatever passed for a dungeon in the 31st Century of the Inner Sphere.

The one-time NCO almost missed a step and tripped over his own feet as Franko took a seat in front of a massive desk. He had no idea what was said in the opening moves of this meeting, he was too busy doing the tourist thing. He was just overwhelmed by being in the same room as frakking Hanse 'The Fox' Davion. The displaced man was able to catch up when Blake used the 'D' Word.

"The Dragoons have sent a message to our team on Galatea, and they have been directed to start looking for new employers." Blake was working double duty keeping an eye on The Caveman and The Fox at the same time as he spoke to the leader of the Federated Suns.

So far, he had to admit that he had been impressed with how Drake was handling everything on this mission. Stanford could tell that the displaced man knew that he was in over his head, but he was following all of the training and directions he had been given. It was clear to him that the other man had been a good NCO from wherever he had come from, and he was not treating all of this like it was a game but real life.

Hanse shot a quick look over at Quintus and then he looked quickly back to the head of Wolf Net sitting within spitting distance of him. He had only been told about this move in this morning's version of his daily intel update brief. The First Prince's key staff had spent the better part of two hours war gaming out what to do and how it might affect the Federated Suns and when the FedCom was announced to the rest of the Inner Sphere.

In a very calm and smooth voice The Fox addressed Blake. "I'm aware of this information. I must say that We were surprised that the Dragoons started something like this with so many months left on your current contract with the Combine."

The agent and LAM driver was in his element, and he was almost happy to be here as he multi-tasked like he had been born to the skill. "It might not come to you as that much of a shock, but the Combine has started playing company store games with us. This is something we have delt with before, but it was that issue along with some other issues that is driving the Dragoons to start putting out feelers earlier than normal."

Hanse could see his two closest friends in the room shift just a little, but it should only have been noticeable by someone who knew both men so well. "What other issues might they be, a mercenary unit, even one like the Dragoons are always near the more unsavory sides of the human race." The First Prince easily saw that he hit a nerve with his last remark, he felt like he needed to let them know who he was.

Stanford could not keep his eyebrows from moving at the last remark but knew that it was a power play. "We have found out that they are currently going to try to set the Dragoons up into committing a few war crimes. When that plan fails? They are going to try to frame us for the crimes that they are going to commit themselves. The end state is that they want the Dragoons rolled into the Combine military forces just like any other combat unit in that part of space."

The agent wanted to put just a little heat in his voice for the next part. "We think that they are also trying for repeat of what they did to the Light Horse and what House Marik tried to do to our dependents not so long ago."

Stanford Blake had to stop talking because in the end, he had let just a little too much heat into his voice. "Jaime thinks that this falls into an area that lets us break our contract and some of the other rules that we have been playing by… until now."

Drake had to admit to himself, that he was pretty good at reading people or at least reading people that were in leadership positions over him thanks to his time in the Green Machine. He already knew that he was out of his league with these people, even before he had stepped one foot into this room. The Army NCO had to fight from getting fidgety as the meeting went on and he had to keep his lips closed. This was the kind of a meeting that reminded him of how battleships would move around in a computer game. They only looked like they were moving slowly, and this was due to their massive size. But there was a reason that more than one destroyer had gotten run over by a battlewagon-sized vessel in Earth's history. Such collisions rarely ended well for the smaller vessels.

There was a pause that seemed to stretch for long seconds. What did Colonel Wolf and his other regimental commanders want to know from House Davion?

"So, what would the leadership of the Federated Suns think of possible reactions by the Dragoons to this frame job?" The head of Wolf Net spoke in a calm voice to the head of the Federated Suns as he put an expected card on the table.

Hanse's mind was racing around as he worked on what Stanford was saying and what he was not saying at the same time. Removing five key and elite regiments from the Combine's order of battle would be very helpful to the First Prince's government. And if he knew when the Dragoons were going to jump ship out of Combine space? Then maybe MIIO and the AFFS could take advantage of this in the court of public opinion and in the head of the Draconis March, at least.

Still, I need to keep focused on the Cappies for what they tried to do to me, the Federated Suns, and what would have been the FedCom, the First Prince was mentally telling himself.

Hanse really wanted to pay the Combine back for all of the years of fighting and little things like the Kentares Massacre, killing his first love on Homestead Station, and the little thing of killing his brother. Getting even for that torture and dealing with the false Davion might have to wait… for now. That was not something he wanted to do but Hanse had learned a long time ago that even the First Prince didn't always get what they wanted.

Hanse looked levelly at the head spy for the Dragoons. "It would depend on what kind of counter evidence that the Dragoon's had on hand to counter these public claims being put against them. It wouldn't have to be evidence that has to be released to the general public to have an impact. But I would have to have something in my hands that proves your side of events to me. It would have to cover whatever the Dragoons have been charged with, is indeed false. If that is the case?"

He folded his hands on the expensive desk and a sharklike smile came to his face. "Then the leadership of the Federated Suns would welcome the Dragoons, if they needed to escape from the Combine. But you would have to make it to the space that is controlled by my people. Anything other than that will be… difficult." He was not going to slam the door shut on FedSun's combat units jumping the Combine boarder to help, but he was not going to let the other man know that this option was on the table just yet.

Blake gave a sly smile to the First Prince. "And by difficult, you mean expensive. So how much is this going to cost my people?"

Drake caught movement out of the corner of his left eye as Quintus's hand jerks up and he put a finger in his right ear. He was looking at his boss dealing with Blake, so Quintus didn't notice that he had been busted putting a finger in the normally well-hidden ear bud, which he would bet was connected to the rest of the Intelligence section somewhere deeper in the mountain that was surrounding them.

Hanse let a used car salesman smile come to his face, which wouldn't fool the average three-year-old in a third world country. "Blackwell has had a good year; and for over the last two years don't you think. I was told that it has doubled in size and looks to triple its now larger current size soonish. MIIO also knows that Blackwell was key in Defiance finding a lost mech factory on Kwongjong-Ni and they also were key in getting it back into operation faster than anyone thought possible. The Lyran military has already received its first Ringo assault mech, and they seem very happy with them and Blackwell for that matter." The First Prince didn't have to talk about all of the spare parts coming out of that same facility that were starting to work on raising the number of mechs ready for battle across the Commonwealth. Mech parts that were also connected to Blackwell, if you knew where to look.

Hanse saw his friend's slight hand movement to indicate the only person that had not said a word in this meeting was now important. That finger movement on his left hand was a notice about the unknown man and an alert was sent between the two men on the Federated Suns side of the desk. Hanse had no idea why his spymaster was now more worried about the odd man compared to the other two Dragoons in the room. Hanse had known Quintus long enough to easily see the change in the man and he trusted him with his life.

Franko spoke up to make the leader of the Federated Suns move his head to try to break up his game plan in dealing with his boss. "We only receive half of the profit of those sales while we work with a much smaller team fixing our real part of the payment. We also don't have a say in who Defiance is selling those mechs to, that is also in the fine print of the deal that was made with them. I'm sure that MIIO also told you that we also helped fix some issues that the Kell's Hounds found when testing the new Wolfhounds. But we have not been cleared to get a license, despite the time invested. When we are finally have been cleared for production, and Blackwell will love to be allowed to build them on New Valencia, but it will only be with some very clear rules and a few dozen observers with microscopes."

Franko was betting on that MIIO had not found out about most of the details of this deal just yet, and on the plus side the First Prince might be able to help get the deal unstuck. There were very few hammers larger than one with the label of First Prince of the Federated Suns.

Hanse snorted at seeing how his plan had already been thought about by the Dragoons but also noting the information about the Wolfhound. He also could tell that the other man was trying to surprise him with this information. "A new light mech in the future but there are the odd Falcon parts that are coming out now as tests for a future production run. Both are good scout hunters, and the reports I have seen indicate that both are quite good at that job. Those can be very useful in that role, and this Wolfhound was designed to fight the Combine-made Panthers. That kind of fighting is something that I have done before, but still, I need heavier designs than an upper end light mech. The Suns are short, almost critically short of the more robust battlemech designs."

He stopped talking as the First Prince got ready to play his next card. "I understand that your Marauder II has been selling well, but there are too few coming off the production lines to really make an impact in the short term for my realm."

Blake took a sheet of print plastic out of his coat pocket and passed it over to the leader of the Federated Suns and his face was as still as a pond. "Ahh, we might be able to help with that one problem my lord. You see, we know were a large cache of mechs and other combat equipment are currently located that could use a good home. And the Dragoons also want to make sure the current landowners don't find them."

Quintus saw his longtime friend and leader lose control of his face after only a few seconds of reading the sheet he had been handed. It was the first time in a long time that this had happened in any meeting with the head of House Davion. He didn't know if he should be happy or scared out of his mind at this event. Hanse broke with the meeting plan, and he waved for his friend to join him on this side of the desk besides Ardan was already reading over his shoulder.

The First Prince made it a few more lines down the page before he dropped the sheet of crease folded pages on his desktop. "Good God!"

Hanse had an inspired thought, and for some reason his eyes came to rest on the unknown man in the room. "Where is it? How do you know this and more importantly. Where. Is. It!?" The last bit came out a bit louder than he had planned.

Drake was eye locked on The Fox, and he felt like the slowest chicken in the targeted hen house, and then he put his foot in his mouth. "I drink… and I know things."

Now Hanse looked and acted incredulously, and his tone dripped. "And what exactly do you know?"

The man from Earth had a flashback of an after-work beer meeting and telling horror stories about dealing with new MI professionals arriving at a unit. He had to explain to those newly arrived officers or branch transfers that they had to stand up to combat commanders or be forever run over and never listened to again. Suddenly Drake stood up from his chair without being asked, he always thought better on his feet, and then his eyes fell onto a glass sculpture on the far wall.

"Sir, I noticed that glass sculpture when I came in. If you don't mind, who made it?" Drake could see Blake tilt his head to one side as he jumped the script on the rest of the Dragoons.

The Fox's eyes had a funny look, and he fell back into the cover story when he was asked that same question by others that had the pleasure of seeing this room. "It's a Tiffany. I picked it up on Terra many years ago."

Drake walked over to the oddly shaped glass. "Are you sure it's Tiffany? I would think that its maybe a Marvin Lipofsky?"

Quintus knew how special that hunk of melted glass was to his friend and acted to intercept wherever this might be heading. "You were asked a question by the leader of the Federated Suns. We don't have time for a discussion on different artist."

The ex-NCO gave the FedSun's spymaster a level look and made a point to not look at The Fox. "So, is there really a special ring under it?"

You could have dropped a tear in the room, and it would have sounded like a bunker buster bomb doing its job from a dozen paces. Drake had not just dropped a dime on them, he had dropped a roll of manhole covers. No, he had hit them with a manhole cover in the face and then ran over them both with a bus.

When the silence had dragged on long enough, Drake hit them again. He waved his arm in the area around part of the room. "You know the light is very nice here and I bet it's great when you read private messages from the other House Lords about the future of the Inner Sphere as they are joined by marriage."

Ladies and Gentlemen, now that is the way you drop a manhole cover on someone, thought the man from a different universe as he looked at the shocked faces.

Drake walked back to his seat and only took his eyes off the three Davions in the room when he looked to the other two Wolfs before his butt hit the thick cushion. He didn't need to say anything else, but he was really wishing there was a cup of coffee or a glass of wine that he could have toasted to the Davion spymaster. The displaced man just had done what he had been told that it was okay to do, if the opportunity happened to arise. He was just surprised that it was this soon, but sometimes dealing with professionals can cause things to move very quickly at the oddest times.

Blake had to really fight to keep his face tightly under control with the antics that the man from Earth had just pulled off. It was not often you get The Fox knocked off balance, and when you did. You had better strike quickly to maintain your limited advantage before it went the way of a snowball in Hades. "Thank you, Mr. Mendenhall, for showing off for us… again. But to the First Prince's one question, the cache is in Marik space. Anything more? Then we need to have a deal that needs to be worked out first, the Dragoons work for a living after all."

Hanse had his voice barely under control, but he was staring holes into the man called Drake Mendenhall. "What are you looking at?"

That statement could have been taken so many ways, but this time Drake used his 'First Sargent look' and his lips did not move. This was not a question for him but one for the officers around him to deal with.

The head of WolfNet braced himself for the next move in these high stake's games. "The Dragoons want an equal share of the recovered items and first pick from anything that is successfully pulled out of FWL controlled space."

That had the effect of driving Hanse's head to turn from Drake to look right at the head of Wolf Net. "The Dragoons don't have the lift or the units to do something like this. Hell! I don't think we have that kind of lift that is not being used somewhere else around the Suns on high priority taskings of some kind. Much less do we have the lift needed to support a covering operation this kind of thing would need to be successful enough to be worth the effort and risk in the first place."

Now it was time to fire Drake's last torpedo unto the Davion side of the meeting with a straight face, before he worked on being a wallflower again. "What about Galahad 3026? Besides it would give you time to talk to a certain Steiner, to make sure she really wants to marry you." He was not going to talk about spring and winter romancing being a thing of fiction or the sign of some underlying mental issues that needed fixing… or a bullet to the back of the elder's head.

The Prince's Champion looked up from reading over the First Prince's shoulder. "That still would not give enough lift."

The military man from a different universe smiled. "That was why we thought the LCAF would be a good partner." Now it looked like he hit the Davions with a fish to the face.

Blake saw the other spymaster's face change just a little, and he could tell that Quintus Allard had been pushed far enough for this round. "This is not the whole truth that I'm about to say. Right now, you wouldn't believe us if we told you everything that we know. Let's just start with that Mr. Mendenhall is a victim and the sole survivor of a very tragic mis-jump over a year ago. The Dragoon's leadership were not aware of his validity for many months, other than being one of the few major mis-jump survivors on record."

The head of Wolf Net gave a slight shoulder shrug. "I'm not happy to say that it took us so many months after that to come to trust what he knows as being something, other than some kind of horror story from the deepest parts of hell. I expect the same will be true of you and your lord. Right now, let's just take what he says as being valid. Trust me, it will save a lot of heartaches and pain down the road if you take this path." The agent rubs his forehead without thinking about it as he remembers the number of headaches Project Caveman had dumped into his lap already.

He dropped his hand and locked eyes with the First Prince. "Before we get into that, someone might want to send for the Commonwealth ambassador. We have a plan but both parties might want to agree to." It would take an hour for the ambassador in question to make it up from a dinner he had not liked attending in the first place.

By the time that the members of the Dragoons had left the Fox's lair, the Wolf's Dragoons would get one out of three combat units that were recovered from the base and none of the nuclear weapons. It was going to be an even split of everything between the Lyrans, Suns, and the Dragoons. If the Dragoons sold anything on the open market from their share pulled from Helm, it would have to go through Quintus's office first. It was after that agreement that they got into the finer details that Blake dropped another one of his manhole covers into the meeting.

That was when Stanford told the First Prince and the ambassador about the Star League library core that was also hidden in that base along with all of that valuable hardware. He also let them know that one of his teams had not been able to copy any of the library's data, due to none of them being trained in the required computer skills to deal with the data and the traps they had found already. Now if you wanted them to do some spying, and some specialized B , then they were your team. But high-end computer work at this level was out of their wheelhouse as plotting a navigation path for a jumpship was for the people in that room.

When the mission to Helm was launched, some handpicked personnel from the Dragoons would be slipped in with the NAIS support teams that also were needed for this mission to succeed. The plan's outline also said that they would pick up the Wolf Net team that currently was occupying the almost-Castle Brian while living on field rations and fighting boredom. That Wolf Net team had already been briefed about the anti-tampering charges and they had been found after the first week of looking. Blake had been told that they had taken care of about half of the ones that they had found, but the rest were too risky for them to deal with until more specialized support arrived on site.

The meeting between Davion and Dragoon had decided that the best place to split the take from Helm wouldn't be on that battered little world but on one that was not on most star maps. Drake would have pushed for Outreach, but by now he knew that Outreach was firmly a Confederation world and not part of the Commonwealth or Suns claimed planets. Franko had expected this, and he produced a star map and quickly a solution was found. A small to medium sized unit from each of the three players would be sent ahead to set up any needed support structures on that world, as well as keep any unwanted eyes away until the rest of the operation could be launched.

Getting out of the mountain unnoticed was as easy as getting in for the Dragoons, because today was part of the first week of when the common areas had been decorated for the party the Nobles or lottery winners could attend. It allowed for huge numbers of visitors to be moving around certain parts of the exposed palace and this group was just one more in the flow of bodies.

The small team of Dragoons were guided through areas that were not commonly known about in the palace, but the last stretch was hidden like the corridor that Blake and team had used to evade the tour groups earlier. After rejoining at the back of another tour group about to leave for the day. The group of Dragoons had boarded a hover van, seemingly at random and the group was soon on the road back to the hotel district of New Avalon City.

The next day the delegation from the Dragoons were picked up at their rooms by a group of plain clothes but heavily armed escorts. The three high value persons along with five other Dragoons as armed escorts were taken the back way out of their very expensive hotel. Those ways were normally used for VIPs that didn't want to be seen by the public or press, this time MIIO made sure that they were truly cleared of third parties. A pair of hover vans were waiting for the group in a very well-hidden underground parking deck not on any building plans. Then Blake and company were taken to a NAIS building that was both secure but also not known to be connected to the workings of that facility. To the rest of the outside world, it was just a food storage and preparation area for the massive campus.

Quintus Allard sat at the center seat of this table as the three men he had been waiting on arrived and took seats across from the Davion side. When they stopped moving and the escorts on both sides were settled enough to look like they were not ready to start shooting, Allard address them. "With things currently set for Project H, we need to talk about some other issues, and I will be speaking as the First Princess's voice. He wanted to be here, but other matters needed his attention."

Stanford was like a stone wall and gave nothing away until he spoke. "What other issues would you like to start with?"

Quintus was smiling on the insides, but he had his working face on to keep his cards close to his chest. "MIIO would like to have access to Drake Mendenhall for an… interview and this is something that the First Prince also wants."

Blake didn't need to see Drake to notice his change of posture in reaction to a possible threat from one of the top three people in the Federated Suns. "Drake Mendenhall is a Dragoon, and I think that you know how we protect our own." He could see the other man's back go ridgid so he kept talking at a measured pace. "But we have conducted an interview that covers questions relevant to the Federated Suns. What will the Dragoons be paid for this information, even if some might say that it was secondhand?"

Caveman needed all of his hard-earned briefing skills not to react to thinking about that interview, thankfully the one he had undergone was under clan grade babble juice. That little interview tape that held whatever he could remember about the Federated Suns, and its leaders going up to what had been called the FedCom Civil War in a game from another universe. It also covered the deaths of both current House Lords and the murder of his soon to be wife by their oldest daughter. Those dozen hours of fun had been copied onto a pair of data disks that one of the escorts had been carrying in a hidden small case.

Allard didn't seem to notice the slight tensing of the displaced man's shoulders and kept playing his game. "What would the Dragoons think might be a fair price for this kind of information?"

Stanford now was thankful for SHIELD and some of the crazy ideas that they had come up with, but instead of speaking it was sometimes better just to show. Blake turned his head slightly and gave Franko a small head nod. The other agent pulled out a data sheet and only passed it over when his boss started to talk again. "Mitchell Vehicles workings on Graham IV. More to the point Jaime Wolf would like the First Prince to use his influence to have Mitchell Vehicles cough up any plans they have on file and release them along with everything like a license, pattern, and patent they might own to the Wolf's Dragoons… in the future."

Allard took the offered sheet and started reviewing the data. Normally this was just a ploy to buy time, but this had truly caught him flat footed. He found his first road bump very quickly in the second paragraph printed on the page. "Graham IV is not under the FedSun's control and, while it's not all the way across the whole Inner Sphere from our space, it's two jumps from Caph. Well, let's just call that this area is just on the other side of being hotly contested territory."

Stanford didn't blink an eye at this flat statement. "Yes, but it's close to the Lyrans and soon it will be part of the Federated Commonwealth. We understand that Graham IV would have to be taken and held first, but the legal designs would be turned over to the Dragoons as soon as possible threw detailed preplanning by yourself, the First Prince, and certain other parties".

That planning was something that Hanse couldn't do right now, and Blake knew this. "So, MIIO will get one data disk as a show of good faith, and they will get the second disk after the Dragoons are legally allowed to start up production of the Shogun battlemech at the Kwongjong-Ni facility. We will trust the First Prince to hand over the rest of the data as soon as possible."

Allard drummed his fingers on the desktop for a few seconds. "Done." He reached over and the two men did a handshake to seal the deal.

Now the right hand of the First Prince for this meeting reached into a folder and pulled out a report. Team Banzai had already filed a report back to Hanse about the DHS and production data that Blackwell had passed to them. Score one for Black Boxes, so that the report could work its way to the very top of the Federated Suns by the time of this meeting before the Dragoons had arrived on this planet.

There was a sharklike smile on Quintus's face. "Now let's talk about the Freezers that Blackwell has been making for at least the last few months."

Drake now knew that he would have to add a mark on his 'oh crap' Calendar sitting back in his home on New Valencia. This problem had been thought about even before Blackwell had turned over the damaged heatsinks and the documents to a key team of NAIS. Still for the first wave to be caused at this level could be a very bad sign for future events.

Quintus still had that smile on his face that caused the man from Earth to think about the last season of Shark Week he had been able to watch. "I just wanted you to know that we are aware of this production and that for some reason this was not on Blackwell's latest company filings. As a gift, the First Prince currently doesn't want a cut of this production, and the taxes will not be collected on this product while the Dragoons are in Combine space. But this could change if it's found out that any mech fitted with these devises are used against the military of the Federated Suns."

Stanford let an odd smile come to his own face. "If any Dragoon combat unit that has been refitted with Freezers or as we call them DHS sees combat, it will not be leveraged against the AFFS. I can assure you that they would only be used against those that would wish harm on the Dragoons outside of the contract. What would be the cost of this… gift?"

"The First Prince noticed a hole in the abilities of NAIS, and we would like Blackwell Industry, and the Dragoons help in fixing this."

Franko was more versed in what Blackwell could provide so it was his ball to call. "What are you thinking? We would have to move very carefully in any actions that might be found out by groups like the ISF and used against the Dragoons that they can reach, at least in the short term."

Allard gave a slight head nod at the point. "The cost for this gift is that NAIS will slowly get a dozen 'ex' Dragoon doctors, nurses, and medics assigned to their staff. I think that if you first channeled them through Blackwell's new Medical Division, that should keep the press or ISF in the dark."

Stanford Blake thought about this for a few seconds and came up with what he thought might add another layer of security. "How about any of these types of personnel that are sent to New Avalon are going to be on a two-year contract filed with ComStar for cross training with the medical instructors at NAIS. Blackwell will cover their salary, but Hanse Davion would pick up the security and all of the other cost that would be incurred with their addition to the NAIS campus."

A side deal for this medical help and an agreement of the Dragoons to be willing to subcontract out additional medical teams, when things had calmed down was signed. To cover that Hanse was going to oversee the selling and the transfer of all of the assets of Stormvanger Assemblies in the Federated Suns and later the FedCom to Blackwell. That would clear up any legal action with the Falcon that there had been the first rumblings about in the legal pages of the Inner Sphere by anonymous sources. Drake and Franko think that The Fox was just looking for someone to help with the shrinking numbers of the FedSun signature Javelin mechs in their order of battle. And what large combat unit would not want more Cyclops command mechs at their fingertips with or without the Tacticon B-2000 Battle Computer? Those were the three designs that Stormvanger were most known for, but very few knew that there were others rumored to have been in the works.

There was no way that Blackwell could get those last two designs back into production in the near future. But The Fox was not just thinking about this happening over the next few years, the First Prince was looking at this being done in the next decade or so. Plus, Blackwell had gone from one mech line to working on three mech lines in less than two years. The First Prince was just clearing a few roadblocks to more growth that he was leading this company down. Hanse was not above addressing this 'favor' down the road if he didn't feel that Blackwell was playing ball with him. That was just how things were done when you played at this level within the Inner Sphere.

The Dragoon team from Blackwell had the next day off, and Drake took the time to do what he was calling surfing the net of a capital world of the Inner Sphere. He had quickly found out that it was not as easy or as enjoyable as it had been back in his time. Still the displaced man's parents were what had been called poor, and they had a few odd ideas about mega-sized companies and the power they had. So, Drake had learned how to find data in more than one way. That didn't mean it was easy or even fun, but it was a useful skill set now.

Franko walked up behind the ex-NCO and looked over his shoulder while the man was working on the data center tuning out the rest of the world. He wasn't trying to be quiet when he walked up on the other man. He just moved that quietly, or so he thought.

Drake didn't move as he heard someone come into the room from one of the other bedrooms of the massive suite. He just kept the article up that he was reading and taking some handwritten notes that might prove useful down the road. When the movement stopped, he was ready. "You know that your knees crack, right."

He had a smile when Franko took a seat across from him with a crestfallen look. "You know if we could copy the software off of my laptop. We could make a mint."

The friend kept his face still and then he did a slow negative head shake. "It wouldn't help that much from what the software people told me. We have no idea how these Google servers worked, and you said that they are needed on the back end to make most of the stuff on your laptop work properly. There is still a small team working on that copy of the software on your laptop that they made, but with everything else going on, it has a very low priority. You need to get ready for more show and tell. We have a working dinner, and you were asked to come along… by name."

"Oooookay?" That got the brown-haired man's attention, and he started to worry. "Do they know my background after all?" He was having an image of a black bag team snatching him off the streets like in some movie.

Franko let out a little breath. "We don't think so, or at least not all of it. We think that Quintus wants to get a better read on you."

Dinner was amazing and the best part, for Drake, was that he was not on the hook to pay for his meal. He also was the only one who was not drinking anything alcoholic with his amazing food. The ex-NCO had never liked drinking wine with his food, and he even rarely had beers with his meals as a rule. Well, that is unless it was some very good hot wings and then he would bring on the beers. If he wanted to have a few drinks, he would stay at his home and turn off his phone only then would he pop some tops and put the TV remote in his off hand. It became apparent that he had quickly forgotten who he was eating with, and it came back to get him in the backside.

Quintus was watching the strange man without staring and when he looked to be getting really into eating his chocolate cake. The head of MIIO asked the question that he felt was safer to ask directly to the man that survived a mis-jump and was being sold as a time traveler. "So, Mr. Mendenhall you're working with a mercenary unit. What is stopping you from taking a contract from a third party?"

Drake slowly put his fork down on the plate, and he didn't have to look at Franko or his boss to know that they were now visibly on high alert. He just slowly looked up from the amazing cake and locked eyes with the FedSun's Intel man. Thankfully he had a few months to think about questions like this. "Are you familiar with the French Foreign Legion's code of honor from around the 20th and 21st century?" He knew that he was about to play with fire, but he wanted to make a few things clear right from the start with the head of MIIO and the First Prince's left-hand man.

Quintus's head jerked back, and he didn't say anything for a few seconds. "HMMMMM. Now that you said something, yes, I know the code."

The man from Earth folded his hands onto the snow-white linen table cover. "The Dragoons are not perfect, but they offered me a home and medical care after my mis-jump. They are now my honor, fidelity, and their mission is sacred to me. Only they can be the ones to dismiss me when they feel the time is right."

Drake must have said the right thing, because he made it back to the hotel with his heart still beating in his chest. He let the evening fall away when he crashed face first into his bed for the loving embrace of a food coma with a side order of sugar crash. One part of his brain knew that Franko, Stanford, and a few others were having a little meeting on the other side of the suite about the displaced man sleeping a few rooms away.

With the events going on around New Avalon this time of year, it was not that hard to get a ride off planet for the average person. Making sure that the Dragoon team could get back to New Valencia was harder, even with New Avalon being the capital of a major power. That delay let the group have a full week more on New Avalon for sightseeing, and thankfully Blake and Franko also wanted to have some down time. Thanks to the skill of the teams from MIIO and a few other groups, the fact they were being watch didn't cause any issues for the people being watched.

So, they got to see the sites, and the displaced man even got to do some white-water rafting. Drake had no idea how much that he had missed that last part of his life, but there is a reason the man from the Big Green Machine had a 54-inch chest when he arrived in this universe. He quickly showed the rest of the Dragoons and anyone from MIIO that was watching them what a three-man steel canoe can do, if you know what you're doing while shooting Class 5 rapids.

It was during this time that Mendenhall found out that he could pilot a battlemech after all. It was not a real mech, just a simulation that was set up in a shopping mall as an entertainment device and income generator for the shop. While playing the very complex game in a very public setting, he had quickly found out that his piloting skills sucked, but his master gunner badge was upheld after his first run through of the game. Drake Mendenhall was listed as the top score by the time that his third run through the game ended for gunnery. He was a lot lower in his overall score thanks to his lack of piloting skills, and the overall score was not even in the top 100 for the year on this game. The man from Earth should have noticed the looks that he was being given by Blake and Franko as he played that game, but Drake was too busy patting himself on the back to notice the sidelong looks.

Yep, Crazy Woman 2 would have something to say about that lapse in his awareness if she had been around her ex-husband to berate him.

Blackwell campus, New Valencia

Crucis March, Federated Suns

May 3026.

The Dragoon team made it back home without any problems besides the normal Zero G issues on the jumpship that Drake seemed to be destined to endure for the rest of his life despite having near unlimited access to clan grade medicine. After landing at the drop port pad nearest to the Blackwell facility and unpacking and a few VIP meetings, Blake was given the full tour of what had changed in the local area since his last visit back in 3015. The ex-army NCO had not been taken along for that little tour of the growing facility, and he did notice that he had not even been invited but he held his tongue. The displaced man was an important person, but he was not in the same league as Blake and the rest of the senior officers of the Dragoons as the silent partners of the corporation.

The first full day that the group that had been sent to talk to Hanse Davion had been back planet side after unpacking, Drake had been taken for the start of a very full and extremely comprehensive physical. It didn't take long before he made a few connections that this round of testing was a lot like what he had endured on his first days after waking up in that hospital room but not totally how he remembered it.

Drake couldn't help but give a slight jerk when an adhesive pad was removed from his skin at the base of his neck. "Why couldn't you guys knock me out for this crap." He didn't get a response from the pair of medical professionals standing to his left and right.

At the silence it told the displaced man a lot. "I might need to get some very detailed counselling after you all let me out of this place." The first few hours of this round of testing had given him a great concern now that he had a frame of reference. The longer the testing went, the more counselling he thought that he might need later.

After more hours of being poked and prodded the man from Earth was taken to another room with a large table, two chairs, a ton of wires, and more people waiting for him. Drake was taken to one of the high-backed chairs with very little padding. One of the people standing near one of the walls steps forward to the man in the chair with an oddly shaped metal and plastic helmet in his hands.

The thin man had a smile on that would set anyone not in the medical world on edge. "Mr. Mendenhall this is a real SLDF grade aerospace helmet." The odd thin man started to slowly rotate the device in his hands like it was an ancient icon of faith.

The man from Earth decided to play dumb not knowing if this unknown person was cleared for Caveman. "The way you said that leads me to think, that you think that its important in some way."

The thin man looked like someone had kicked him in the groin and sputtered for a few seconds before starting to speak more coherently and more calmly. "Well, it's more sensitive than the ones used even in the average Dragoon piloted mechs." Only part of his mind understood why that was important.

MSG Mendenhall knew that he was not cleared to use one of those either, but he went along with it just so that all of this testing would be over and closed out. It took some time for the set of medical professionals to make some adjustments and start the tests all over again while the brain bucket was strapped to his head and sore neck. All the while he kept his mouth as closed as much as he could.

It was sometime later that a serious looking young woman was so close to Drake's face that he could smell what she had eaten for the last few days. With a tug and then removal of some kind of device the woman looked right into his eyes. "Okay, Drake just relax. We need you to act just the way you were shown."

He gave her a small head nod and then looked at the table with a toy mech standing on its flat surface. "Okay… power on."

The toy mech jerked to one side and then the other like a sailor coming back to the ship from a liberty call. With the slight shake of the toy, the ex-NCO started to shift around in his chair as he had been shown and thought about what he was doing. The movement looked to him like it was an extra from the Walking Dead or some other Zombie movie. He kept shifting left and right in the chair as the zombie toy moved further across the tabletop one shaky step at a time.

He would have been shocked at the surprise looks on the faces of the group when the man from Earth got the toy mech moved all the way across the table on the first try. If he had only moved the toy a little, that would have made all of the doctors and support staff in the room very happy.

Boris looked up when the door to the house opened and the package walked into the house while he was cleaning one of the three side arms that he normally carried to be able to perform his job. The seated man did a head nod to the other escort that gave a shoulder shrug before he left the protectey in his hands.

The close in security guard quickly put his Federated Suns made Serrek pistol back together and just as quickly preformed the required functions check before putting the weapon in its place in a hard to see drawer on what the homeowner had called a coffee table. With the weapon taken care of he went to check on the man that was quickly becoming a friend.

The bodyguard took a seat at what the odd man had called a breakfast bar and watched as the fit man took a long pull from a bottle of local made small batch beer. "So how did it go? You were worried about it when you left on Monday."

The man that was listed as a survivor of a miss jump pulled the now half empty bottle of beer from his lips. "I should have received hazard pay, and it was worse than I thought could possibly be while awake." He had the ride back from the hospital to start to come up with ways to show his displeasure with the man that had sent him to undertake those 'few' tests.

He took a seat on the bar stool with a high back and started to slowly roll the cold bottle between his hands. "Well, it seems that now I have the right type of brain to pilot a Battlemech. That doesn't mean that I have the skills to do so but I passed the test that say that I can be trained to pilot anything that might use a Neurohelmet."

Boris waited a few seconds to see if Drake was going to say more, but after a few seconds, the many months of watching this man he knew that he needed to be pushed. "That sounds like a good thing? So why do you look like a wet cat, or someone kicked your dog?"

A snort came out of the other man. "Well, I can tell you that they were so happy with seeing what I had done, and that it was such a wild change from what they thought. That they threw me into another round of testing and dozens of scans of my brainpan that could have cooked a goose."

Boris was blinking his eyes very quickly as he digested what had been said. It was a lot and he was part of the group that ranked seeing a doctor right up there with ripping the hair out of his genitals, one hair at a time. He rose from the longed legged chair and retrieved himself a bottle of beer of his own. When he retook his seat and took a long drink from the very expensive but also very good beer he looked back to the other man.

In a voice that he tried to make sound light. "Well, that sounds like fun."

The man from Earth gave the guard a single finger salute that got the same in return. "Yeah, that was so joy making that they had to put a mouth guard in my mouth to keep the snark in check after six hours of this set of retesting."

Boris looked confused that was only half faked. "Why do you think they were so happy, besides that you're not going to have some kind of stroke."

The man from a different universe was at a loss of words for a few seconds, before he could come up with an answer. "You were born in the Federated Suns and fostered with the Dragoons, so think about it this way. Most of the medical teams are ex-Clanners or otherwise adamant supporters of the Mech mafia that runs the rest of the Inner Sphere and reaches all the way back to Clan Space."

He stopped talking for a few seconds to think about what he wanted to say. "They treated me like I was maybe not the number one draft pick for the local sports team, but I was definitely a first rounder for the major leagues of whatever sport you could think of." If he already didn't like dealing with medical personnel before this round of testing? Well, he certainly would now.

After the first round of testing, he was not off the hook thanks to the unexpected results seen by so many others that were not in the medical profession. So, Drake had four more whole days of medical checks, and they took enough blood to make him feel a little lightheaded at the end of one of the days. The ex-NCO almost opened a beer when he got home after day three of the fun so he could enjoy the low blood levels thanks to the medical teams. It was only thanks to Boris that stopped him by passing along the good news, that he would not be allowed to drink or eat because of the next day's planned test. The test he had no idea he was going to be doing the next day until Boris had told him. As he sat in the main living area of the home, he wondered if that job offer from Quintus Allard was still on the table.

Drake was stunned and just blinked at the doctor, and he couldn't speak for what seemed like an hour. Suddenly he looked away from the doctor to look at Franko sitting across from him. "Okay the Wolf's Dragoons have Iron Womb tech already in operation. What the hell, over? And why wasn't I told this as part of SHIELD?"

Franko had a confused look on his face as he just looked back at his friend for a few minutes. "Yes? You know that we came from the Clans, and they preferred this way of growing a population. Why do you seem so surprised? You have always claimed that you don't have to be shown where all of the dots are connected. Were you just bragging to us?" It was only two dozen iron wombs on hand, and it was rare that more than a handful were in use at any one time, but he was not going to be told this.

The man from Earth tilted his head to one side and then gave the agent a one finger salute that one part of his mind noted that he might be overusing that gesture. "Well yeah… but I don't remember that the Dragoons used them… in my briefing notes." He shoots a look over at the lab coat wearing doctor that was not cleared. "Is this the reason for the last day of testing I had to go through… on short notice."

The doctor put his hands in his coat pockets and gave the odd man a level look that was boarder line exasperated. "Yes." The medical person thought if he didn't know better the mis-jump survivor might still be suffering from some form of brain damage.

Drake nodded his head, and he wanted to make sure that he understood what was going on today. "So, you need an official gift take from me, only the lab people want more than blood and skin to meet their needs for any future Iron Womb requirements." He was looking hard at a little white bottle in his hands before he looked up at the doctor once more.

Just when Franko thought that his friend was going to balk and refuse this… honor, the other man rose with the white bottle still in his hands. "Well, this is going to be new, too bad that this is not the strangest thing I've done in my life."

Just before the door closes behind him, he makes what might have been an offhand comment. "You guys should open up a fertility clinic with those Iron Wombs, it could be for anyone with deep enough pockets to come a calling with reproductive issues."

Franko looks at the head of the Dragoon gene clinic and raises an eyebrow. "He does have a point. Have someone on your staff look into this and pass the report to SHIELD by the end of the week."

The next week started with Drake being taken to the local defense base that Blackwell had started renting after that now hidden mis-jump. After a long safety briefing, he was assigned a Scorpion light tank for some testing. Day 1 started with the normal classes in the morning that you would expect for militia units from across the Inner Sphere. The afternoon, after the local instructors were gone, was when they reverted to how the Dragoons trained new tank crew. So that afternoon the man from Earth was the driver of what was thought of as only a training tank by the Dragoons but a main combatant by the militia. It was not long before he found out that he was very rusty in his driving of the armored vehicle. In short, he thought that his skill sucked, but he had not thrown a track in his afternoon of hard driving. Okay so he was not that bad, just real rusty with all of his time in this universe and the time spent on Staff before then cutting into his skills base.

Day 2 at the militia base had started with some refresher driving classes to finish knocking off rust, and it ended with the man from Earth on the firing range. It was a long day, but Drake had a lot of fun as he went through three tons of ammo for the Deleon 5 autocannon before he had his first break longer than ten minutes. Then with a larger audience after the long break, he went through another two tons of 50mm autocannon ammo. Again, the NCO from the US Army held his master gunner badge in good stead and that was the reason for the last two tons of ammo with only a warning of the gathered group wanted to see 'to see if you are as good as you think'. The range master wanted to make sure that he was not a fluke or cheating somehow with his range scores. By the end of the day, Drake Mendenhall was put on the list of the top five tank gunners on the whole planet.

Day 3 started out with the man from the Big Green Machine taking another driver to the shooting range, just to prove that the results of Day 2 was not a fluke and to show off to some locals that Blackwell wanted to impress with one of the members of the company security unit. He was still listed as one of the top 5 tank gunners after this additional range time, only this time he was in the second spot of that list. The rest of Day 3 and all of Day 4 were needed for him to get used to playing tank commander again.

Franko had his feet up on what was reported to be recognized as a high-end coffee table, if he had been on Earth back in the 2000s. He was just having a few beers and enjoying his friend's good mood, one of the few on record for the man from a different universe that had been reported on. He had already read the reports that had been generated by his time on the range, but he wanted to share in his friend's joy. "Well, how did you like it?"

Drake took another sip of his locally made pub beer. "Let me tell you, being a tank commander is frakking awesome! Even if it's a glorified armored car that you are in command of."

The Wolf Net agent could not help but laugh at the look on the other man's face. "I take it that you enjoyed it, but what happened on the next day?"

"I got to command three other militia crewed Scorpion light tanks in the open field. They gave me the same driver that I had from the day before, so all I had to do was command, and maybe shoot the 50mm cannon when one of the other tanks missed their target. I can tell you that I do miss a good ATGM with some teeth."

"And… man, sometimes it's like pulling teeth with you," stated the agent.

The man in question put his beer bottle down on the low table and let out a long breath before giving in to his friends digging. "It was a lot harder even without scoring any hits on the target. My 21st century unit commands are different than your 31st century commands. It was almost like we spoke a different language most of the time."

Franko knew this already, but what had been kept from the other man was that the militia commander had been impressed with what she had seen even before she had found out that Drake only had one day of working with the like tank lance when she had been observing. "You seemed to have done well enough to get the job done as both a lance commander, a tank commander, and gunner."

"Maybe a little too good and I kept getting distracted with the fun. I had hoped to get some of Blake's time before he left to make his way back to Combine space."

The agent knew this, but the head of Wolf Net had to get back before too many eyes started looking his way only to find him missing. "I take it that they have come up with a training plan for you?" He let a small smile come to his face.

The other man snorted and took a long pull from his beer before answering his best friend in this universe. "You would think that after all of that, I would have been given a few days off. Nope, that was not the Dragoon way. Instead, I will be spending eight hours a day, every day in those mech simulators or in the security training room and supporting areas. You know those sim pods seemed to be everywhere around here seem to be used more than I had thought. Between those eight hours in the pods, I'll be spending about another four hours a day being told what I did wrong."

Drake knew that he was being trained in how to be a mechwarrior even if no one had asked him if he was okay with this plan or not. After a comment in passing during the corrections of his skill after a set of very grueling rounds in the sims that his name was removed from the pod's schedule. The displaced man went from going at the dead run every day, to a dead stop seemingly at random. He just was sitting in his house killing time, and the ex-NCO was starting to get bored out of his skull. The medical professionals had been keeping an eye on him and stepped in after he announced that he was tired of training, it was a case of be careful what you wish for… You might very well get it.

The pair of men were watching a lot of tri-vid while the package worked out what he wanted to do with his time for the next few months. One of the news shows from New Avalon made Drake look up from one of his Honor Harington digital books he was reading. It was a news talk show that Boris liked to watch, it was not the displaced man's normal type of show to fill his entertainment itch, but it was voices from people not staying in this home. So, it had just played in the background while the roommate worked out in the home's underutilized dining room.

"The planning of diverting of so many jumpships and dropships, all as a small-scale run-up to this so-called Galahad Training Event is going to ruin the great economy of the Lyran Commonwealth. This kind of nonsense needs to stop!" screeched a voice that was like fingernails on an old school chalkboard.

Mendenhall now watched the show for the next hour to catch up on what was causing the guests to be so agitated. When it was done, he knew what was going on behind the scenes of the Federated Suns and the Lyran Commonwealth that the guest had not, and a sly smile of the knowing came to his face. Some key units from the pair of houses were on the move, and it was a lot earlier than they should have happened to support the ten 'mech and two hundred other regiments that he knew had been working up for Galahad 3026.

The ex-NCO could think of only one reason that something like this might happen, and it was connected to Project Caveman. When the show started another round of rehashing of what had been said earlier in the show, Drake picked up a brick like communication device from the coffee table that he knows was secure enough for what he needed to do. Still, he would need to be careful with what he said on that device. After all the phone company could be listening in on the device.

After three rings he speaks before a voice could reply. "Franko, I think it started." He was not surprised when his friend just made an agreeable sound and said that he would be over for a beer after work.

The man from Earth had no idea if the agent would be stopping by his home or not. Still, he asked his roommate to please go out and get more beer and something for him to cook just in case Franko showed up. Drake had found out a while ago that grilling was a lost art, at least in this part of the Inner Sphere. Now he was bringing it back as best he could to a starving universe.

A few hours later Franko was sitting in a yard chair with his feet propped up while Drake tended to the meat cooking on the outdoor grill that had not been made in this universe. A pillar of very nice smelling smoke filled the air, and the agent had to smile as he relaxed deeper into the oddly shaped chair that also had not been made in this universe but was the pattern for one of the newest fads on the planet. It was just one more of the many files generated by Caveman's actions had been his pursuit of this project he wanted so badly.

The displaced man had spent months burning different types of wood before he found this local wood that seemed to fit his needs. Still, it took hours of stripping the bark off cut logs with a hand tool before he tossed it to heat up near the slowly cooking meat. By now every time he fired up his grill anyone nearby would start circling like sharks, today was only different was that they had started cooking before most of them had gotten home from work.

After taking a slug of a small batch of beer that Drake had found from a local brewery and fast-food join halfway across the planet, the agent grins. "You're getting good at that."

The griller smiled without turning around and moved a local bird that was just large enough to do a beer can chicken… even if it tasted like a cross between turkey and pork. "This would be better if I hadn't run out of propane, and what you guys use in place of LPG is damn bad tasting to cook with, or I would have been done by now."

Franko got up from his lawn chair and looked at the cooking food between billows of white/grey smoke. "Good thing that you had that second charcoal grill in your shed."

Soon the man from Earth started pulling the meat off the heat after one last check with his long metal tongs. "Back home I'm only thought of as a little above average griller." The displaced man got a lost look in his eyes and stops moving for a few seconds. "There were some guys back home that could grill so good that the worst cut of meat would melt in your mouth after they were done with it. Too bad you guys are stuck with just me as an example of how it might be done."

The agent tapped the bottle near Drake. "Well, everyone around here thinks that you walk on water with your odd style of cooking and that doesn't count that sauce you came up with."

The other man didn't say anything and only gave a tired smile and carried the hot food to the table already set up with side dishes. As the pair ate, the agent brought Caveman in on what was going on with Helm and the detailed planning that had gone into launching this mission. As expected, 70 percent of it when right over Drake's head, but he felt better just being told what was going on.

Notes:

I drink and I know things: I was given a farewell gift from Fort Sill back in 98 with that printed on the side. When GOT came out it drew a lot of attention to my desk after that one episode.

Drinking a few after donating a pint of blood: That is a thing in the military back when they still sold beer in the soda machines in the barracks, and it is not healthy.

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