Lancer, not a Mechwarrior
Chapter 4
-VB-
“So this is Kilbourne, huh?”
John watched Darius look out of the cockpit windows to see the world they were rapidly approaching.
Kilbourne was a water world (60% surface coverage) with four major continents. It was also one of the most heavily populated worlds in this entire region, which meant that there would be a lot of opportunities here. Supplies, repairs, mechwarriors for hire, recreation, and so much more could be accessed here that they would never be able to all at once anywhere else.
But he was also worried.
With such a large and important place came nobles who thought they were important with enough firepower to push issues.
Darius’s unique mech, the Raleigh, was unique enough and powerful enough that some bastards might attempt to grab it for themselves, using the militia and the AFFS garrison to secure it. While it wouldn’t be as bad as it could be (the Capellans and the Draconis Combine were the worst when it came to mercenary treatment), the Federated Suns did have a record of being unfair and unjust to mercenaries. John didn’t know much more than that, but it was enough to make him nervous.
But maybe he was overthinking things.
“Yes, sir, that’s Kilbourne that our Samantha is heading towards,” John replied to Darius’s question, even though it was a rhetorical question (probably?).
“Hmm. Beautiful planet. No pirates, though.”
“No pirates,” he chuckled. “It is a safe planet. There’s plenty of weapons manufacturers here, though. So we might be able to find good weapons for the extra mechs we have.”
“What about mechwarriors?”
“Well, we definitely can find them here, too. It should be the planet with the highest concentration of the Dispossessed.”
“Dispossessed?”
“Mechwarriors who lost their mechs, remember?” He paused. “Wait, you weren’t thinking about hiring freshies, were you?”
Darius shrugged. “I didn’t know what I would have encountered here. I’m not even particularly concerned about hiring mechwarriors, anyway.”
“Wait, you aren’t?” John asked in surprise. “But don’t you want a full lance to have the support of?”
“Did it look like I needed it when I had you and the ship?”
“I mean… But a ship can’t be in more than one place.”
“Then I will simply have to not take jobs that will require me to be in multiple places.”
John rolled his eyes. “Whatever you say, skipper.”
Darius snorted. “I do say so, but I will try to look for people to hire.”
“Including onboard security!”
“Sure, sure.”
And that’s roughly when he got contacted by the control tower on the planet for identification and landing procedures.
---
“Wait, what?” John asked.
Just ten minutes ago, they landed in one of the major Kilbourne spaceports that they were directed to, and Darius had paid the landing fee. To their surprise, Darius had offered everyone a week-long shore leave.
Except, of course, for him.
Darius looked at him seriously from across one of the dining tables.
“As my current First Mate, I need you to be the company’s representative on the ground. So enjoy yourself but I need you to do the recruiting for me,” he repeated. “You know what we need: extra security, mechtechs, mechwarriors, replacement armor plates, weapons for the new mechs, and miscellaneous equipment including things like space suits for when we need to perform external repairs on the fly in the void.”
John grumbled. “Yeah, but how should I know how to hire people? You know that I’m just a jumpship clan man. I don’t know how grounders do!”
“Which is why it won’t come with negatives but positives. For each task you complete,” he replied as he pulled out a sleek datapad. “You will get a bonus.”
“... How much bonus are we talking about?” he asked back with a raised eyebrow and an elbow on the table as he took the tablet and looked down. “I mean you can’t poOOOH MY GOD.”
“So? Will you at least try?”
“Absolutely! No takebacks!”
Darius just snorted and waved him off. “Have a fun week. I’ll hold the fort. But next shore leave we get, I’m the one who’s gonna go out and have fun.”
“Sure, sure,” he grinned as he left.
With the tablet under his arm, he followed the last of the crew leaving the ship to explore the city nearest to the spaceport.
… Eh, he might want to explore the spaceport itself, actually. On a planet with billions of people like Kilbourne, there should be spacer bars in the spaceport itself, right? The elders talked about how heavily populated worlds had dedicated spacer bars built into the spaceport’s amenities for ease of access.
He squinted at the bright sunlight as he walked out from the cargo hold ramp along with the rest of the crew and looked around. The spaceport was decently filled up with all sorts of dropships and shuttles. There were plenty of Leopards and Mules, the two most common types of dropships, the former for the military (mercenaries included) and the latter for civilian shipping. Kilbourne’s purpose shown in the spaceport’s resident make-up; there were more military dropships than commercial ones.
Even if Kilbourne had a few billion people, most planets had to be self-sufficient in most matters. From his time aboard his clan’s jumpship, he knew that most of the goods that a commercial dropship might haul around were high-end goods that a lot of planets couldn’t make or afford to make. He’d seen ledgers for ships hauling cheap electronics to tanks. Food wasn’t something that was shipped often unless it was compact ration or viable seeds. Kilbourne was green and blue enough that it didn’t need shipping to haul foodstuff or basic colonial needs; it exported those and rations to nearby worlds.
Which meant that dropships had to be on a tight schedule, and their crews couldn’t afford to visit the cities.
I.E. there had to be a spacer bar.
So he walked on it to the nearby buildings.
Lo and behold, he found it.
[Randy Ran’s Rum Runners].
It had character like most spacer bars do.
And the moment he walked in, he felt uncomfortable. He realized just now that, for all the time he had spent as a spacer himself, he never actually got to explore places like this on the rare occasion his clan members left their jumpships to go on shore for supplies.
Actually walking into a spacer bar?
This … was probably his first time.
‘Shit, now I sound like a virgin spacer,’ he grumbled, and that set him in the right mood. He walked over to the bartender and sat down by the bartop. Then he placed a single 10 C-Bill bill on the table under his hand.
The bartender was quick to notice and walked over to him.
“What will you be having?” he asked.
“Something mild. Got business.”
“Hmm?”
“Looking for dispossesseds to hire for a mercenary company.”
And just like that, the entire bar paused for a second.
The bartender, a thin and tall man with a wire moustache, looked him up and down. “You?”
“No. I have a boss.”
“... Won’t find many dispossessed here,” he said. “Most are in the city.”
John frowned. “Got a name for the place?”
The bartender glanced down at the bill.
He slid it over.
“Most of them like to hang out near the march militia’s office, hoping that they can toss their name in when the militia gets a new mech. But fat chance of that happening. I’ve never heard of the militia getting a new mech that wasn’t already lined up for someone else.”
“So no one here is…?”
“Well, there’s a few.”
“And who would you say is the best out of them all?” he asked as he pulled out the tablet to check out what Darius wrote. He glanced down, tapped away, and … huh, those were some interesting requirements. “My boss isn’t looking for the best of the best but someone who’ll stick by even when shit gets ugly. The type who can keep their mouths shut.”
The bartender hummed. “You might be looking for Jessica over there, then.”
He glanced over his shoulder and saw a woman with a pair of men around a table. All of them were in light casual attire fit for the planet’s warm atmosphere and the spaceport’s equatorial location by the shores and beach.
‘Probably makes it easier for tourists to visit the beaches right after getting off the ship,’ he thought.
He turned back to the bartender. “And she is…?”
“Used to work for the AFFS.” And said nothing else.
Sighing, he slid another 10 over to the man.
He took it and leaned forward.
“Jessica Hermen. 26 years old. Used to work for the AFFS. But her superior, a noble, got infatuated with her. Tried all sorts of things. Eventually, got upset she kept rejecting his advances. When her lance got hit by Combine raiders on some backwater, he delayed her reinforcement. Those two with her? They’re her lancemates, and they are thick as thieves with Jessica. All three of them were honorably discharged after they accused the noble superior of deliberately mishandling the situ.”
“And the noble is …?”
“Some core world fob. Also got ‘honorably’ discharged after some investigation. Nothing official came out of it, but I heard that the Kilbourne March Militia general was rather upset with him and the family.”
“So not going to be a problem?”
“Probably not. Last I heard, he was behind a desk, and may as well have been chained and balled.”
John hummed. “And how good is she?”
“Her last BattleROMs made their way around the community. Decent. ‘Not bad’ if you’re a mechwarrior.”
“Thank you.” Then he slid another 5.
The bartender nodded and gave him his drink.
Which also cost another 5.
Ugh.
He stood up and walked over to the trio.
“Lady and gentlemen,” he greeted them but didn’t sit. They looked up, glanced up and down at his attire, and raised an eyebrow.
“And you are…?”
“John Verkan. I’m a recruiter for a new mercenary company. I heard that you three were … a package deal?” Because that would be great for him! Three mechwarriors hired in one-go? It would complete his tasks quickly.
The three looked between themselves, shrugged, and Jessica turned to look at him. “Alright. Give me your sales pitch.”
John smiled. “Well, we are new. We have no history except for a couple of victories against some ridiculous odds out in the periphery. We have the BattleROM if you are interested. But more importantly, we are not connected to any of the Great Houses, so you can guarantee that you won’t be used for some proxy wars or war crime shenanigans.” He paused. “And the commander seems to have a very dim view of pirates and people who act like pirates. Hunting down pirates and outlaws will be what we do most of the time.”
“... And what else?”
“We’re new,” he shrugged. “The commander’s a great mechwarrior but a fresh commander. Great at coming up with plans and whatnot, fighting in his mech, and kicking ass even four to one in a medium mech, but he’s new to being a commander. Which means if you join now, you might be able to convince him.” Was that true? John didn’t know, but he expected a cautious man like Darius would listen to advice and recommendations from veterans and the only mechwarriors under his employ. “So if you want to hit pirates that keep harassing the Federated Suns but want to leave alone the ones that attack the Combine?” he shrugged. The implication was clear but he made no guarantees.
They seemed to like some of what he was saying. “What mechs do you have for us to pilot?”
“A Hunchback and Locusts.”
Jessica raised an eyebrow. “Not exactly ideal.”
“Boss won’t expect you to fight in the Locusts. They’re scouts. Everyone knows that.”
The three leaned their heads closer together and whispered to each other.
When they pulled back, they nodded. “We want to talk to your commander.”
John grinned. “Wonderful. Here are the contracts for you to review in the mean time,” he said as he turned the tablet over to them after going to the relevant contract. Even as he handed the tablet over, John had questions about Darius himself. When did Darius have the time to prepare all of this? “If you want to talk to him right now, then you can head on over to the Samantha at Landing Pad G9.”
-VB-
By the time Darius returned to Samantha, he had completed most of the bonus tasks that Darius had set him out to do.
He got extra security.
He got mechwarriors.
He got weapons, both mech and handheld.
He got mechtechs.
He got supplies.
All of it was adding up to a lot of money for him. More money than he’s ever had, actually.
And now.
All of that might be in jeopardy, because there was a full lance of mediums and heavies standing outside Samantha and a noble standing between them with his bodyguards.
Fucking nobles. This was why the Periphery didn’t have nobles.