1.1 Throw a Stone
Herotitus
Deep Periphery
31 January 3019
A man with a bushy mustache stood up and rubbed at his eyes. He squinted, the bright neon lights of this street of desire stung at his eyes. He grabbed at his forehead, and found there a pair of welder's goggles. He slid the dark glasses over his eyes, and smiled with relief.
He sniffed at the air stinking with refuse and perfume and grinned. People passed by without giving a care to this somewhat pudgy person in a technician's suit. Perhaps a whore or two glanced, wondering if the tech was here to spend some cash. But with his bald head and strangely large teeth for his jaw, they didn't care enough to make the first move. There were plenty of other, less grungy potential customers.
The man put both arms on his hips and cackled like a madman.
This too, no one gave a shit about.
"Looks like I'm early!" he whispered to himself. "Too early. Helm is so overdone. Now... what to do in times like this?" He looked at his left wrist and at the green blob of assorted mysterious devices there. Prominent among them was a symbol that looked like a blue diamond. He jerked back, remembering. "Ah, I know! YOU START WITH ORPHANS!"
The man cricked his neck and went off to search for the nearest orphanage.
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Deep Periphery
31 January 3019
A man with a bushy mustache stood up and rubbed at his eyes. He squinted, the bright neon lights of this street of desire stung at his eyes. He grabbed at his forehead, and found there a pair of welder's goggles. He slid the dark glasses over his eyes, and smiled with relief.
He sniffed at the air stinking with refuse and perfume and grinned. People passed by without giving a care to this somewhat pudgy person in a technician's suit. Perhaps a whore or two glanced, wondering if the tech was here to spend some cash. But with his bald head and strangely large teeth for his jaw, they didn't care enough to make the first move. There were plenty of other, less grungy potential customers.
The man put both arms on his hips and cackled like a madman.
This too, no one gave a shit about.
"Looks like I'm early!" he whispered to himself. "Too early. Helm is so overdone. Now... what to do in times like this?" He looked at his left wrist and at the green blob of assorted mysterious devices there. Prominent among them was a symbol that looked like a blue diamond. He jerked back, remembering. "Ah, I know! YOU START WITH ORPHANS!"
The man cricked his neck and went off to search for the nearest orphanage.
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Colchester
Markesan Operation Area, Crucis March
Federated Suns
5 April 3024
Colchester was about as unremarkable a world as you could get in the Federated Suns. It had been in Davion hands for nearly five hundred years now, and through all the changes in the Inner Sphere - even through the glory days of the Star League and the chaos and atrocities of the Succession Wars, had passed mostly unchanged.
Deep within the Crucis March, the very heartland of the Federated Suns, Colchester had little to fear from raids or invasion. This also meant that its planetary defenses were quite meager. In their service to House Davion, Colchester had been chosen to serve as their homeworld for the duration of their contract.
It was far enough from the theater of war against the Draconis Combine to keep their dependents safe, while only several Jumps away to support their military operations.
It was three jumps away from Hoff, which in 3019 the Eridani Light Horse faced off against the Wolf's Dragoons who in service to House Kurita attempted to take the world and to seize or destroy the research facilities House Davion had placed on the planet. The Eridani Light Horse successfully fended off the Dragoons but the aftermath left them badly mauled. Prince Hanse Davion, pleased with their performance, granted them time to rebuild their forces.
Most large mercenary units would take this time to begin a concentrated recruiting and retraining effort, but the Eridani Light Horse were not your usual mercenary unit. The Light Horse was formed from the Star League Self Defense Force's (SLDF) 3rd Regimental Combat Team (RCT) that decided to stay rather than accompany General Kerensky's exodus of the SLDF away from the Inner Sphere and taking all the might of the SLDF with him.
They maintained the traditions and regulations of the SLDF even as they served the House Lords as mercenaries. They maintained themselves as the SLDF-in-Being, letting their guns be used only in service of those that maintained the honor and integrity of the Star League. It was either this or face impending starvation trying to eke out a living farming poor worlds out in the Periphery. Making the best of a bad situation, the Light Horse had this as their best compromise.
This meant that the Eridani Light Horse would never engage in acts that violated the Ares Accords. They never attack civilians, nor inflict undue harm on the innocent, nor execute surrendered prisoners.
Operating as a full combined arms force, the Eridani Light Horse owned their own JumpShips, DropShips, and three regiments of BattleMech, Vehicles, Artillery, and AeroSpace Fighters. They had a sizable population of dependents and a training regimen to replace losses from their own pool of recruits ready to step into place.
Therefore Eridani Light Horse's recruitment process rarely relied on outsiders. It was easier to get into armor and infantry, but there were higher standards for BattleMech recruitment, and mercenaries had to know that once you join the Light Horse effectively there was no leaving it.
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The Eridani Light Horse based themselves on Fort Bradley, an encampment they constructed some distance away from the planetary capital of Constable.
Three regiments of some of the most battle hardened soldiers in the entire Inner Sphere meant that the planetary garrison had no issues seconding their defense and sensor nets to the Eridani Light Horse.
Therefore it was not at all difficult to notice a single Mech approaching the base.
Straight from the spaceport, trundling along towards Fort Bradley, at a very sedate 32 kph. Given that the camp was only six kilometers away, it would not be a terribly long walk.
Barbara Mosley belonged to the 2nd Recon Company (Nightcrawlers) of the 6th Recon Battalion (Stimson's Stealther's) of the 21st Striker Regiment of the Eridani Light Horse.
She rode a Phoenix Hawk while accompanied by Jack Finsrud in a Vulcan. Command sent out a pair of speedy Medium Mechs as any more would be unwarranted unless this was a trap.
"Attention, inbound BattleMech!" she shouted into the radio. "You are approaching a restricted area! Halt and state your intentions or we will be forced to take measures."
"It's an Urbanmech…" Jack sighed.
It was hard to mistake the walking trashcan for anything else. It was painted in pale utilitarian green similar to their own shade of SLDF olive drab.
He could already taste his time being wasted, but the Eridani Light Horse remembered well the history of their dependents being slaughtered by House Kurita and so they never relaxed when it comes to security.
"Hello? You people are of the Eridani Light Horse, right?" The Urbanmech stopped and the responding voice was male but sounded far too young. "I have a message to deliver to your commanding general from my father, and… and, if permitted, I would like to try to join the SLDF."
Barbara blinked. She was a veteran MechWarrior born and raised in the culture of the Light Horse, but they did recruit from outsiders on occasion. Preferably while they were still young and able to be re-trained.
Their Brevet General, Nathan L. Armstrong was the first outsider to command the Eridani Light Horse, but he was adopted while still a child. More pertinent perhaps was Major Earl Dirkson, commander of the 5th Striker Battalion of the 21st Strikers Regiment, who found an intact Mech after a Marik raid and then joined the Eridani Light Horse.
Major Dirkson was a tolerant trainer of young and reckless MechWarriors as he was the same in his youth, and Barbara had fond memories of the officer helping out with the battalion in mock combat scenarios.
"But it's an Urbanmech…." Jack's voice whined through the comms again.
Barbara chuckled. Yes, though Major Dirkson might have been a brash and callow youth, but he was also a young MechWarrior that showed up with an 80-ton Victor.
"I am sorry, but the Eridani Light Horse are not accepting any applicants at this time. If you have any further concerns you may contact us at our offices of outreach back at Constable. Any messages can be passed through official channels."
"Umm. Yes, that would be proper… but this is important. Father said that I have to deliver it in person, it can't be delivered electronically. It's… important SLDF business."
"And who is your father?"
"He called himself Doctor Ivo Robotnik, but you wouldn't know him. It's a fake name."
Yes, well obviously. "I'm not seeing a reason to allow you to even approach the base, much less meet our commanding officer. I'm sorry, but you must understand. These are important security protocols."
"I respect that. But… it's really really really important. I have to prove that it's not just nonsense…. so-" The pilot of the Urbanmech took a deep breath and the large weapon mount on its right side flicked up.
Barbara and Jack had all this time kept their weapons carefully trained on the other BattleMech, but fortunately while they jerked at their controls had discipline not to fire in reflex.
The weapon pod flicked straight up and the Urbanmech angled its bulbous body backwards.
"I challenge you to a race!" said its pilot.
Barbara blinked. Blinked again. She flicked the radio again and said, "Excuse me?"
"I challenge you to race. Please."
"I'm not sure I'm hearing this correctly."
"Race me. You. Me. Run. If I win, I want to be able to talk to someone with authority in the SLDF. I can leave the Mech behind if you want, but I need to talk to someone about this. My father has a message that has to be passed on until your General hears about it and decides if it's worth his time."
"I'm sorry, you are speaking things but I'm not entirely comprehending…"
"I bet my Mech is faster than your Mech."
Jack Finsrud interrupted with "Barb, I think maybe you should make this one go back. Who knows if his brain fever is infectious or something."
Barbara grimaced. "You… you do know I'm riding Phoenix Hawk, right? A Phoenix Hawk. You're inside an Urbanmech."
"Yes, that is so. Regardless, I would like to challenge you to a race anyway. I would most likely lose, but my father said this would help prove my bona fides. Race me, sir. Or ma'am. I'm not sure what the SLDF rules on rank."
"It is ma'am, as dame is the equal rank to sir. Female officers should be referred to as sir," Barbara replied in reflex. "But I am not here to entertain you - I must ask that you do not waste any more of our time."
"ER PPC."
Barbara blinked again. That… did not follow. What did PPCs have to do with their conversation?
"This Mech is mounting an ER PPC instead of an AC/10. You can check your sensors, right?"
Barbara glanced at her HUD. Huh. Her Mech sensors did successfully identify that it was packing a PPC. But again, what did that have to do with anything?
"I'm sorry but I don't follow how that is relevant."
"My father found Lostech. He's dead now, rad poisoning. But his last wish for me is to tell the SLDF about his cache and for me to try and join the SLDF. I wager this entire Mech. I don't care about being Dispossessed, I wasn't anything until father adopted me and being a MechWarrior isn't… worth anything… unless it's fighting for the SLDF."
The boy's voice was calm and clipped, but Barbara could hear the tremor in it.
"Please! Just… please. Race me. Let me just show you what I can do. Or else it would just be wasted."
Barbara's Phoenix Hawk stepped back and while still keeping a Large Laser pointed at the Urbanmech, turned slightly towards Jack's Vulcan.
The anti-infantry mech with spherical helmet-like head gave a minute shrug.
"It's an Urbanmech…" Jack said for the third time. Still as bland and disinterested in everything about this malarky.
"... You know what? Fine. Damn me for my sympathy, but just know that if there's any weapons fire you're going to have a striker lance on your head faster than you can blink."
"I understand those risks. No weapons. Just running," replied the boy.
"Jack, mark us out a five-click stretch."
"Really. You're doing this," her lacemate responded drly. His Mech wagged a handless weapon arm at her. "It's an Urbanmech!"
"Let's just get this over with."
The two Mechs walked over to stand side by side, and in doing so exposed even more their staggering differences. The Phoenix Hawk was a 45-ton machine prized by the SLDF as reconnaissance leader with its streamlined body and powerful Jump Jets on a backpack-like assembly. The Urbanmech was a dumpy 30-ton machine that while comparing it to a walking trash can was uncharitable it was also not inaccurate. It also had the record for being one of the slowest Mechs ever built. Even Assault Mechs were faster.
However, speed was not very relevant in cramped city fighting as the name of the Mech implied - urban combat rarely allows for going full speed. The low-slung little Mech at least was good for ducking in and out of cover to plug away with its Autocannon/10 - at least until it runs out of ammo - but in open country it would shortly be murdered in most pathetic fashion.
This could only end in humiliation. "Are you sure about this?" Barbara had to ask.
"Yes. Sure. I'm sure."
"Look, the rated running speed of my Phoenix Hawk is ninety-six kph. All-out sprinting lets me break hundred kph easy."
The Phoenix Hawk might only have 15 tons over the Urbanmech, but its legs alone were almost as long as the Urbie was tall. Stride length alone gave it an insurmountable advantage.
"My Mech might not be as fast as that, but it's no slouch. You'll see."
"Well… you asked for it." Barbara turned away to see the Vulcan had stopped at five kilometers away.
The terrain was reasonably flat, and composed of unused grassland. Whatever cows that were grazing had long been frightened away by the sound of tromping BattleMech feet.
"On three, we go," said Barbara, her fingers lightly gripping the throttle. "One…
"Two…
"Three!"
She pushed the throttle to 50% instead of full acceleration. While this could only be foregone conclusion, a Phoenix Hawk just accelerates so damn fast as befitting a Scout mech and she decided to just keep pace with the boy in the Urbanmech for a while so he gets an idea of real Mech movement.
The Urbanmech went stomp stomp stomp rolling full acceleration, pumping its stumpy little legs as fast as it mechanically could.
Barbara Mosley gazed forward in incomprehension, then flicked her eyes down at the speed indicator - rising from zero to holding at 47 kph within 6 seconds - then back up to see… yep.
That was the back of an Urbanmech.
Barbara pushed the throttle forward until she matched the Urbanmech's pace, and checked again the speed reading when they were side by side. It was 81 kilometers per hour.
That was solid Medium mech performance!
Urbanmechs were supposed to have a top speed of 32 kilometers per hour, what the hell!
But…
Her Phoenix Hawk could do 97 kph easy.
She flicked the radio and said "That's no regular Urbanmech! There's no way you can win this, but how are you packing a big enough Engine for this much speed AND a PPC?"
"NANOMACHINES, SON!!!" the boy screamed back and accelerated past nominal running speed to an all-out sprint.
For a moment the Urbanmech surged ahead, and then Barbara kept pace with her Phoenix Hawk. 90 kph. 100 kph. 110 kph.
Barbaba couldn't help but to let out a disbelieving little almost girlish giggle. The stride length difference meant that to keep the same speed the little Urbanmech needed to move its little trunk legs twice as much. It was a wonder that its servos were not tearing themselves apart.
This was about as fast as it could go. The finish line was near, and even through the faceless cockpit of the Vulcan she could tell that Jack was boggling.
She accelerated past the machine… 120 kph. 128 kph.
She only had eyes for the empty space in front and then the rapidly approaching Vulcan as a landmark.
And there with a strange lingering shriek, from her left the Urbanmech pulled through with this shaking and tippling from side-to-side gait at just around 135 kph.
The faceless cockpit glass of the Vulcan was the very example of the expression 'Whut' as the Urbanmech passed it by.
The radio was filled with a mindless "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA" as the boy in the Mech tried to control his machine and try to get it to a graceful stop instead of faceplanting.
The out-of-control overspeeding Urbanmech ran straight into the forest past the finish line and Barbara winced at the sound of splintering wood and trees being ripped right out of their roots. The cracks and snaps continued for quite a while until finally, slowly, mercifully… the Urbanmech managed to stop.
The pair of Light Horse mechs gingerly walked over to inspect the damage and see if they needed to radio for a recovery vehicle.
From out of the furrow carved into the forest, the Urbanmech emerged limping. Apart from some scratches on the paint, the Mech looked none the worse for wear. The uncomplicated shape and form of the Urbanmech meant they were surprisingly sturdy little things.
Barbara approached and slapped the rounded dome top of the Urbanmech with her Large Laser weapon pod.
"What the heck was that?!" she shouted excitedly over comms. "That was amazing! I hope you didn't wreck your motivators doing that, but… damn. If this wasn't on BattleROM no one's ever going to believe this. I'll eat the punishment if necessary, but for me making an Urbie outrun a Phoenix Hawk earns you at least an introduction to our tech division."
"What the hell, no way a trashcan can go over a hundred kilometers per hour!" Jack put in. "How is that even possible?"
"My father said this is some sort of… Super Royal Urbanmech. Its normal running speed is eighty-six kilometers per hour, but it has a Supercharger. It has an Extra Light Engine. It can do all of this and still meaningfully pack in an ER PPC in place of the Autocannon. The UM-SSR was a secret Star League project to create the most optimized militia mech platform ever."
"Fancy! Well you got my interest. I can't say this is enough to get you to join the Light Horse, but it's enough to give you a shot at the training program. I don't know if the General will talk to you, but whatever message you have, we'll be sure to pass it on."
"There are more of this. That's why I need to talk to the Brevet General. My father's dying wish was to hand over the regiment to the only good remaining piece of the SLDF that remains in this universe."
"A regi-... what."
"Hey, kid," said Jack Finsurd. "What's your name?" His voice no longer held any of the boredom from earlier.
Barbara nodded, realizing that they had never asked. "I am, by the way, Barbara Mosley, and this is Jack Finsrud. 6th Recon Company, 21st Strikers Regiment. You are?"
"Oh. I had a different name before but my dad gave me a new one. I'm keeping it. My name's Devlin. Call me Devlin Stone."
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Toss a stone in the pond,
And watch what ripples form
From a drop might great changes erupt
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