TEFAC Chpt 12

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==Chapter 12 - Time Enough For A Cat -- Exit, From the Reach to the Inner Seas -==
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====The stupidest Idea====
Dropship Borozoi
Planetary Orbit
Coromidir VI, Aurigan Coalition
June 25th, 3025
"Right, what's so important you've got us sitting in the chuckwagon in orbit for?" I asked, perennially grumpy. I'd gotten over my concussion, Yang was working on my mech, and most importantly I didn't have a flying fuck to give for the ongoing negotiations down on Coromodir between the groups of people labeled "secretly fine with the coup" and "the Restoration Army" and "Emma Centrella, trying to get the best deal possible" and other various and sundry minor polities. More importantly, this was interrupting nookie time. I could be curled up on my bed in the Argo, watching my Draconis soaps, maybe doing lewd things with my husband or Howler or, I don't know, harassing Wyrm or something. Instead I was in zero-g, looking at Sokoloy's flat ass, as we zoomed right to the small brig we'd built into the center of the cargo hold. Mostly we just used it to keep drunk Mechwarriors in, or techs who'd tried to duel each other with wrenches as one does after a Bravo Alpha Eleven-Hundred November incident went critical. 
 
"So you remember how Howler and I had that thing we had to do during the mission, right?"
"Yeah it was called 'you fucking ditched with no warning,' and I'm still pissed about that." 
 
"Well I've got the reason why right here." 
With that, Sokoloy opened up the brig, and I got a good look at a head of dirty white hair, before someone stared at me venomously. 
 
"That, uh, someone from Comstar dumb enough to admit it?" I asked. "Because we didn't have shit in the briefings about tall, dark, and handsome female mechwarriors of note." 
 
"Nope! What we have here is a wild saboteur and coup perpetrator." 
"Still ain't ringing bells, Sokoloy." 
 
"My name," the prisoner said, "is Victoria Espinosa."
 
The dawning flash of realization came over me, along with a mild headache. "Oh, she's one of the Directorate head honchos, ain't she."
 
"My father, Lord Espinosa, was the Director." 
"Shit..." I muttered. "Can't have a captive ransom another captive." 
 
"At the time she ejected," Sokoloy explained, "we thought she was one of ours: isn't often we see a Star League era ejector squawk code go off. Howler got her and I played escort to the medtechs, who cut her out of the ejection system and we figured out who we were looking at. Nyan decided she was worth holding on to." 
 
"I'll admit she's a half-decent mechwarrior, but we're not that desperate," I complained. "So it's got to be info."
"Yes," Espinosa grumbled. "It's info. Comstar was trying to- well- it's complicated." 
 
I rolled my eyes. "Chica, everything is complicated. Let me boil it down, though: you ever hear the words 'Holy Shroud' bantered about?"
 
That earned a start. "How do you-?"
 
"Not important. All you need to know is we know the phone cultist toasterfuckers like to keep a finger on the scales of the Inner Sphere- and you probably blundered straight into three or four different Precentors' idea of a good time." 
 
"Six, actually," Espinosa said, sighing. "All four of the Auregian postings agreed: we couldn't risk another fop like Kamea's father at the helm. Precentor Taurus, meanwhile, wanted a nice patsy to remove some of the more militaristic people who had been giving his Far Lookers- whoever they are- a hard time. Precentor Ward I think just wanted to get the Taurians drawn into a brushfire war." 
 
"Thereby neatly explaining the gas attack on Perdition," I muttered. "Removes Taurus' issue, gets Ward their war, and most importantly gets some international backup for the poor shmucks around here." 
 
"I made the call to keep her around on more than just the info in her head," a fourth voice said, coming up behind us. It was Tam, still in his class As, grinning at us faintly. "After I reviewed the reports of what happened on Artru, I, ah, realized you may have made a tactical blunder, Love." 
 
"Oh?"
 
"Following up an enemy chemical weapons strike with your own chemical weapons use? Yeah, we're not dodging the 'can and will do the war crimes' rap, and don't expect the Bulls to show us any niceties from hereon out. Fortunately, the MRB cleared us of any wrongdoing, but it's still a note on the file." 
"Note, shmote," I grumbled. "They nuked you. I should have gone straight to neurotoxins if I knew how to make them." 
 
"We can debate the ethics of how we handle an Ares Suggestion later," Tam said, shaking his head. "I don't have long before we have to go negotiate the final cost of this whole damn war, so let's get this wrapped up."
"Handing her over to Kamea on a silver platter, then?"
 
Espinosa flinched at that.
 
"No. Frankly, I was thinking of hiring her."
 
"What!" I shouted, joined by Sokoloy and Espinosa.
 
"Think about it!" Tam said. "And don't think like mech-heads. Think with your officer brains. This woman's got contacts in four-"
 
"Six," Espinosa corrected
 
"-Six HPG complexes. Plus she was fairly high up the chain of command in the Directorate's armed forces, so she can get us data we can use to loot whatever's left of their supplies before the standdown orders hit and we can recoup some of the absolute mountains of money we spent on this campaign. Last, but not least, we've developed a reputation for using... we'll say pesticide. It sounds so much better," Tam said, ignoring how horrific the implications were. "We're gonna need an expert fumigator, and hey: most experienced person for the job right here." 
 
My jaw fell open. "And how do you propose you keep her from stabbing us in the back?"
 
"Easy. We ship her back to Canopus, get her our particular breed of mods, and sit safe in the knowledge that either she works for us, takes her anti-rejection drugs, and doesn't go for a Capellan Hug; or she does betray us and in about five years the fact we scooped a third of her brain out to remove the gap between man and machine disappear will drive her mad as the insanity and pain delirium kicks in." 
 
"Add some cosmetic surgery, and yeah, that could work..." Sokoloy said, trailing off. 
 
"I dislike this plan immensely," I protested. "She's still an enemy combatant for fuck's sake!"
 
"Considering you've been shipping enemy prisoners out to hither and yon, you should be happy I surrendered!" Espinosa snapped, before trying and mostly succeeding to drag it in. "Just- fuck. I knew that gas attack was a bad idea," she hissed. "The Reach is my home. Come what may, I want to keep it that way- and letting my father put it under a Taurian boot so he can be king of the ashes is not a good way to do that. I'd rather sign on with you lunatics that deal with that, even if it risks Kamea finding me." 
 
"Is Kamea finding you a problem?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
 
"I may have kidnapped her boyfriend for a hot minute." Victoria admitted
 
"Did you torture him?"
 
"I didn't, but some of the Taurians on loan to me did a little." she told me.
 
My face hit my hand. "Tam, I'm going on the record as saying this isn't a good idea."
 
"Oh, it's piss for an idea," Tam said with a little, entirely humorless, laugh. "But frankly, I talked to a lot of accountants in the city. We might need the backup option- if for nothing else, the health of the company." 
"It's your call." I said quietly.
 
"And I wish it wasn't, but Emma sent out the victory bells a little too soon," Tam said. "Miss Espinosa, I'll be back later to talk terms with you later." 
 
As we headed to the bar, I growled. "Right, Tam, what's got your panties in a twist?"
 
"Well, Kyalla decided that since a round in the sack with both of us before we went to New Avalon wasn't enough, she's trying to fucking kill the company," Tam growled. "She's calling her markers back on all her dropships: both our BA Leopards and the Borozoi. They're not required to leave yet and I'm going to try and get them worked into our pay somehow, but the Magestrix is trying to tighten the screws on us here." 
 
"That's got to be the stupidest thing I've ever heard," I said. "What, did Emma find our preliminary cost sheet or something?"
 
"Yes." 
 
"Ah." 
 
I could honestly see the issue. While we weren't a large mercenary organization by some standards- barely a mech company and change- our supporting assets in the BA, armor, and aerospace assets massively jacked up the price tag to bring us along to the party. We'd started billing Nyan as Colonel Gallowglass because that's the total size of the formation, and the Harvest Blades cost like one. It wasn't obvious since so much of our throw weight was tied up in the Leopards and BA, but bringing along our own droppers by itself massively changed the hiring situation. 
 
"So, how are we gonna fight it?" I asked. "Because we obviously have to fight it."
 
"I've got a plan," Tam admitted, "but I don't like it." 
 
"I don't like most of our plans, but tell me anyway." 
 
He did, and was right: I didn't like it either.
-----
====Learning the cost of doing business====
Coromodir Palace
Coromidir, Aurigan Coalition
June 27th, 3025
Sitting around the conference room, I breathed in deeply. The day of reckoning was here: the final, horrible adjusted bill for everything we'd done so far to date. We were about to see C-bill numbers never before observed by sensible human eyes, and more importantly we were going to watch Kamea's first test of rulership. The cast was surprisingly intimate: Tam, myself, and our chief aide-de-camp Julie (serving as the slideshow bunny and general coffee bitch); Kamea and her aide, and finally Emma and a pair of maids. 
 
"Right," Kamea said, bracing herself visibly against the Throne Junior she was perched in. "Time to pay the piper. Colonel Gallowglass, what's the total cost for your campaign?"
 
Tam winced. "Right, so, to preview, this has been a fairly long and extensive campaign, and due to our ability to reactivate salvage in a fast manner and some capitol investments received by allied governments, the Harvest Blades managed to multiply in force over the events. This therefore creates a multiplication in cost, since as per contract we charged per-invasion, and not per-defensive action."
 
"Which is important," Emma said drolly, "because I know what I'd charge for getting nuked, and that would be per-nuke not just a one-and-done cost multiplier for the displeasure." 
 
"Yes. Either way, Artru isn't coming into this cost calculation, since that would... well, likely add a third again to the price," Tam said. "Our four actions were invasions of Weldry, Panzyr, Smithton, and Coromodir." 
 
"Not including the raid on Itrom?" Kamea asked, raising an eyebrow.
 
"Considering that was supposed to capture the planet and we still made some fairly large salvage gains? I'm willing to file it under 'general contract costs' since it was my idea front to back." 
 
"This generosity is getting concerning," Emma noted. I just gave her a wan smile.
 
"Correct- because the total breakdown of this campaign comes down to, approximately, twelve billion C-bills."
 
The room fell silent. "Excuse me?" Kamea asked.
 
"The total cost of the Harvest Blade's operations here has been, approximately, twelve billion C-bills," Tam repeated. I just waited- my job would come soon enough. 
 
"How!?" Kamea screeched. "Literally how! You brought a single regiment, how does this cost a literal year's GDP of my entire home planet?!"
 
"We've been using our own DropShips this entire time," I said, playing a little 'bad cop' for a minute. "That's the first big one. Second one- we use extensive LosTech even before you count in the droppers. All of us have extralight fusion engines in our rides, plus the massive piles of LosTech otherwise in use. Emma's personal Phoenix Hawk has literally no weapons or other systems on it made from 'modern' technology: it's all LosTech or NuTech- and she's the one in the most tech poverty here! Third, we've been bringing Battle Armor to the table- those average something like three-quarters of a million C-bills per suit. Think of each one as equivalent to an entire squad of crunchies. Fourth, though?"
 
I chuckled a bit cruelly. "Well, the contract does say 30% battle compensation- and Nyan's Catapult? You don't want to hear how much that thing runs."
 
"Eyeball it for me," Emma said, starting to look nervous. 
 
"140,625,000 C-bills. Maybe more."
 
One of the aides fainted, I'm pretty sure it was Emma's. "Oh don't look at me like that," I groused. "Your ride averages at ninety-three and three-quarters of a million C-bills, Emma, which is also the ballpark on the mint condition Royal Phoenix Hawks we found in Artru."
 
Trying not to look like we were stabbing her through the wallet and into the femoral artery, Kamea let out a weak little laugh. "So, do you want me to put on a wedding dress before or after you bend me over the table on this." 
 
"Lady Arano," Tam sniffed. "We're professionals. If you want a roll in the hay, don't try and bundle it into negotiations." 
 
"I can tell." she muttered.
 
"Well, yes. That's why we're having this meeting. You know you can't pay this off. We know you can't pay this off. Therefore, we're here to make sure this doesn't go to legal hell and wee have to resort to extrajudicial repossession to make good our losses." 
 
"Also known in some circles as 'piracy', which is really a bad look," I added.
 
"Then, not to beat around the bush," Emma asked, "why am I here?"
 
"Because you're the closest representative of the House of Centrella, which underwrote the contract and agreed to pay up to 50% of the final cost." 
 
Emma gulped. "Oh." 
 
"Quite." 
 
Kamea gulped, looking at her dear friend and lancemate, before immediately throwing Emma under the dropship. "I'm taking that full 50% co-payment, by the way." 
"Ack!" 
 
"Well that makes this easier," I said, blinking. "Tam, you're better at financials. You get to deal with Emma, figure out how you want to bond/loan this whole mess out."
 
"So you'll work with our trade-in-kind gal? Sounds good to me." 
 
"Kamea," Emma said, looking as if we were a firing squad. "I just want to say that if this is our last parting, I'm sorry for eating your last bag of piña and habanero mix." 
"And I'm sorry I ended up stealing your favorite pair of headphones."
 
"Wait that was you? Woman do you have any idea how frustrating it is to find a set that properly conduct through the jaw and skull into a relocated eardrum!" 
I looked at Tam, who looked back at me. We gave the two a moment, before advancing in synch. 
 
"So, Kamea," I said, smiling. "Let's talk about trade in kind." 
-----
====Planning out where to go from here====
Dropship Argo
High Orbit
Coromidir VI, Aurigan Coalition
June 28th, 3025
Sitting around the lounge in the Argo, I sighed. "Got any sevens?" I asked Wyrm.
 
"Go fish. Got any clubs?"
 
I rolled my eyes. "You ask for numbers, not for suits."
 
"This is so weird. Can't I teach you Predlitz Rummy instead?" 
 
"After I teach you how to play Go Fish."
 
"This should not be so hard," she muttered. "They're practically the same game. Got any nines?" 
 
"Here," I said, handing over the nine of diamonds. 
 
At about that time, Tam finally came in. "Good news, Anne, Ariane. I've got the rough draft of our payment plan in."
 
"About time!" I said, laughing. "So what are we looking at? Ten, or thirty years until it's all paid off."
 
"Slow down," Tam said, sitting down and handing Wyrm- no, Ariane now, we could be informal and use actual names since we were finally off contract now. "This isn't all sunshine and roses. Either way, before we get to the good-good news, I need to ask a question for Captain Markham."
 
Wyrm stiffened at the title. "What?"
 
"How much back debt is on your books?" 
Wyrm sighed, looking at us. "Do I have to tell you?" 
"Kind of, yeah. Kamea is mortgaged to the hilt, and Emma agreed to sell her the Magistry's share of your debt load to Kamea so Kamea could pay it to us. Since I was planning on asking if you'd sell out anyway, it would bundle up a lot of quite neat issues for us." 
 
Markham put her head in her hands. "Damnit, Kamea." 
"How bad is it?" I asked. 
 
"Well, when we got bought out, it was something to the tune of four hundred and fifty million C-bills in debt. I think I got us paid down to about three hundred million, though? That's just been me working the interest, though, not the principal." 
 
"Fuck," I muttered. "That's nasty." 
 
"We were a bunch of idiots in a Leopard, and it was a buyer's market for a long time here," Markham sighed. "Overworked, understaffed, and dealing with three years of shitty management from when Darius was trying to do everything all at once. Debt added up fast." 
"Either way, you're in a lot better position now," Tam said, smiling and sitting down. "A massive, unique Lostech dropship, significant reserves of metal, and near-guaranteed work." 
 
Laughing with a pale fringe of dark humor, Markham looked Tam dead in the eye. "So why would I agree to getting bought out by you, then? Because I know Kamea- she's not going to send me up the river on this."
 
"Because the job market around here just flipped, and you know anyone who sees your debt load and this dropship is going to jump on it like a lizard-dog on steak," I said. "Look at it. Carrion lords themselves would bid on this floating palace."
 
"You might not trust us," Tam added, "but you can trust Kamea and Emma. I won't mess with what you've got going here."
 
"I'll need to talk to your dropship captains and subordinate officers," Markham said, stalling for time.
 
"Go on, do the rounds," Tam replied. "My deal as it stands, though? We use the Argo as a flying supply dump and refit base, just like we did in the campaign. Your personal mech company will probably get distributed into Leopards, and we integrate them with Black Horse battalion- might even make you the CO, since we know you're good for handling massive, complex commands." 
 
Markham blinked, going into full 'shellshocked Draconis' mode for a second. "You'd promote me to a battalion leader?"
 
"We've got to do a forces re-organization anyway," Tam said with a laugh.
 
"Pretty much," I grumbled. "Tam's still going to be in overall command, but we're breaking down the group into three parts: Black Horse Battalion for the Reach, Red Horse Battalion for our investments in the Magistry and training cadre, and Pale Horse Battalion for diplomatic operations."
 
"So I'd be getting Black Horse?" Markham asked, raising an eyebrow.
 
"I'd actually like to put you on Red Horse," Tam replied, shaking his head. "We've got a lot of valuable assets in the Magistry that need covering, and that means we need good garrison units."
 
"So I'd be going straight into a garrison contract for the new boss?" Markham muttered. "Well, it's probably not a trap. How long of a garrison operation?"
 
"It's '25 now," I muttered, "and the Fourth Big One is scheduled for '28 or so, so that means... call it three years?"
 
"And I can buy myself out from this arrangement, right?" 
 
"Yeah, you're still owner-operator of all your own gear. We just hold debt-bond here," Tam explained. "Legally, we can't make you do anything except follow orders." 
 
"Well that's weird." 
 
I laughed. "Nah, that's just the Magistry for you. Talk to Howler about it sometime, she has a hell of a life story to tell." 
 
"I'll take you up on that sometime." 
----
====Collecting Pay and Loot====
July 19th, 3025
Looking over the finished paperwork, I groaned. Our cash-out from this contract was pathetic: barely six month's cover costs, and the interest-slash-repayment-plan was barely half our operating expenses per month. We had half a year before we needed more work, and considering how massively the company had grown we couldn't just coast off XLFE sales and Endo production anymore. Worse, we couldn't even properly set ourselves up as landlords (the classic cash-out option for mercs like us) since our total land gains were pathetic from this campaign. 
On the Reach side of the border, we got Fort Snowball and the entire-ass Panzyr Spaceport as a starter platter: valued at a cool twenty-four million c-bills plus a hundred and one year lease on some ten thousand miles of literal garbage dump from the Star League valued at six million C-bills. In addition, we got a one hundred year lease on a square kilometer of the Castle Nautilus, and not a bad square kilometer either. Five sally ports, eight mech bays, and bunk-room for about eight hundred people in Star League discomfort which meant actually pretty cushy digs. That came in at thirty-two million c-bills, plus rents since the Irukandji Company decided they didn't mind the abyssal cold and took on a garrison contract there and rented our room to do it. We also got a ten square kilometer landhold of prime Coromodir clay (ten million c-bills) in perpetuity, and permanent orbital rights on the Coromodir-Stellar L4 point (four million c-bills) for any stations we wanted to build or just to sell. 
 
On the Magistry, Kyalla by proxy of Emma just yote us the entire planet of Adherlwin (two point one billion c-bills, which I wanted to argue but no court would back us up on it) and a five hundred square kilometer landhold on Luxen as a twenty-year lease (forty-six million c-bills) and was done with it. 
 
Total land value obtained? Two billion, two hundred twenty-two thousand C-bills out of a twelve billion C-bill total bill.
 
Then there was the equipment. Oh Christ, the equipment. Both sides had been, well, lavish was a good way to put it on how they'd handed out the goodies. Kyalla's contribution to the war and therefore our total bill was two Leopards (really, she only wanted them back as a bargaining point apparently) together valued at three hundred, thirty-six million; and the Borozoi as a Mule at one hundred and sixty-three million. The Union as well was coming out of our pay (at a cool two hundred and fourteen million) but we knew that going in. What really shellacked our paycheck was the Battle Armor: at a genericized three-quarter mil a suit it didn't sound so bad, but considering she sent us two hundred and fifty-six suits over the course of the campaign that was an eye-watering one hundred and ninety-two million gone, like dust in the wind. 
 
Total equipment paycheck from the Magistracy of Canopus? Nine hundred and five million c-bills, natch. Between that and their landhold values? Three billion, fifty-one million c-bills out of our twelve billion final bill: gone, like dust in the wind. 
 
This wasn't to say the Reach had stinted us. A company of Alacorn IVs was nothing to sneeze at (Two hundred million c-bills for the lot) plus four Tomahawks (Ten-point-one mil altogether) did a decent bit to even the score, and a company of Maxims wasn't chump change either (Fifteen-point-eight million c-bills). For sake of magnimity- and the fact we'd been largely drawing on the Restoration Army's stores- we also included a two million fuel and ammunition 'charge' into the books. Another million c-bills in terms of 'miscellaneous' items like rations, mech-scale snow shovels, small arms ammo, and that rounded out the majority of the Restoration Army's contributions to the material status of the cause. All in all: two hundred and fifty-six point nine million, which we rounded up to two hundred and fifty seven million since honestly: a hundred thousand c-bills would probably cover our stay in the Palace for the week of celebrations and downtime we had issued all and sundry. 
 
In sum between land and equipment, we had three billion, three hundred and eighty four million, and some amount thereafter of accountant food worth of c-bills paid out: just over a quarter our total bill. Remaining after that? Eight billion, six hundred and sixteen million c-bills to go. 
 
First knock against that number? The Markham's Marauders. As all their debt load was being transferred to us, that made us the nominal company debt-holder. While we couldn't forcefully reposess any of their stuff unless it was listed by name in the debt sheets, we did have a (fiscal) gun to their head. Therefore by Magistry of Canopus law, we could lawfully issue priority work as a sort of corvee labor to work against that debt that they held. At three hundred and fifteen million (after taxes, interest, and late payment fees) it didn't look like a steal, but if we wanted to hypothetically liquidate the debt then that would force a sell-off of the Argo. I wanted that boat, and so did Tam, so legally what would happen is that we'd fold the Marauders in as the seed of the Red Horse Battalion. This would give us a fully operational spaceborn HQ, plus take a ton of strain off the rather painfull issues that we were discovering came along with working with a largely BA-centric force. Problems like "Unions did not have enough heads for an extra thirty-two combat troopers" and "Leopard rec rooms can't have everyone do the same movie night". 
 
The second big knock? Full military Jumpship operational rights. In other words, as long as we weren't trying to commandeer a whole-ass jumper, we could generally get natural priority for collars and avoid paying the usual Stupid Bullshit Fees that jumper captains liked tacking on when the merchantmen were being problematic. A fifty-year military priority for both Canopus and the Reach together was about thirty million in estimated benefit, but we tracked it as being worth fifty million just because I knew how much work we'd be putting the Borozoi through ferrying things from Luxen to Panzyr. 
 
Lastly, and this I personally think was the most critical, we got Emma to cough up four new hospitals for us. One on Adherlwin, one on Panzyr, one on Coromodir, and one military hospital to be established in the guts of the Castle Nautilus on Artru. Each one was about thirty million in expected value plus another ten million in staffing costs for the first five years of operation, so that was a hundred and sixty million coming out of societies debt to us. 
 
Five hundred and fifty-five million less c-bills didn't look like too much of a dent, but half a billion did: Eight billion and six million remaining c-bills was a lot easier to swallow. 
 
Our 'down payment' as it were was only four million c-bills. This was mostly Kamea's money, and the rest of the funds owed- eight billion, two million c-bills- was amortized into bonds and loan issues with painfully low interest rates. The breakup was simple: the Duchy of Luxen (read- Emma) was picking up one billion c-bills of debt, the Magistry of Canopus (Kyalla) was taking four billion of the debt, and the Auregian Reach (Kamea) was taking three billion, with the remaining two million c-bills being taken out by Restoration Army in specific that formed the basis of a fund we could draw ammo and common vehicles from. 
 
Thus was the price of a nation. 
-----
====Reorganization and a Briefing====
Coromodir Orbit, Dropship Argon
July 20th, 3025
I was really, really glad that the Argo had enough space to pack everyone into one cargo bay (once we'd put all of Wyrm's shit in the Borozoi for space reasons, again with the junk woman!) for this announcement. 
 
"Alright everyone, settle down now!" Tam yelled through the megaphone. "This'll be a twenty-minute presentation, in and out!" 
 
That actually worked at getting everyone not a tech to settle down, mostly because Tam gave good presentation time needed estimates. The techs were unruly for a little bit, but that's what the MPs we'd gotten for the Argo's rec facilities were for. 
 
"Alright! Since the Harvest Blades are now pretty officially a bit large to run as a single battalion mercenary group, I've decided to split things up!" Tam said. "To this end, we're going to be forming three sub-commands." 
 
Right, Anne, time to play the part of charismatic mercenary leader who wasn't screaming into the void about her finances a few days ago trying to get a way to wring one more concrete c-bill out of this backwater nation of neo-barbarians who couldn't pay their bills like normal people. "The first sub-command will be mine, working directly with Colonel Gallowglass directly," I said. "The Pale Horse Battalion will be composed of the Fortress dropship, one Battle Armor carrier Leopard, and future finances willing, a Leopard CV. In addition, this force will have attached the company Jumpship, Los Señora de los Remidios."
 
We'd nominally captured a second Fortress on Coromidir as well as another Leopard, but our airstrikes had been a little too effective: both needed literal years of repairs to get them orbital, and then we'd have to fly them to an actual dropship yard to finalize and re-certify everything. Needless to say, that was what most people referred to as a 'long-term' project, since right now we had to pay for a team of EOD techs to go through and get us a clear convoy route from our landhold to our salvage! All our other Taurian metal was long-term salvage too, since we had a glut of metal but not enough pilots to use it. 
 
Then again, that's what we were having this entire damn meeting to fix! 
 
"The primary purpose of the Pale Horse Battalion is going to be threefold," I said, tabbing the slides on the projector via remote. "Our first purpose is to be the 'face' of the company, and to serve as an independent command for whom is going to be doing the breadwinning missions. Our second purpose is to be a diplomatic element operating in close concert with the allies of the Magistry of Canopus: specifically at this time, the Dutchy of Andurien, the Auregian Reach, and the Federated Suns. Our final purpose is to be a mobile reserve: of all the units, we have the greatest theoretical and actual operational freedom to execute our goals. Persons signing on for the Pale Horse Battalion should expect a high deployment tempo, long-distance spaceflights, and frequent combat operations."
Handing over the mic and remote to Sokoloy, I sighed. Here came the sad part. 
 
"The second sub-command is mine: the Black Horse Battalion. Our primary operation is going to be a little more sedate than the Pale Horse: we're primarily a garrison and fleet-in-being against CapCon and Taurian aggression. To this end our primary garrison locations will be on Artru in the Castle Nautilus, and on Fort Snowball on Panzyr. As a bonus, everyone who joins will be issued a free battalion-specific cold weather hat: we'll all need it." 
A burst of laughs at that. Sokoloy smiled- he was good at this. 
 
"Black Horse Battalion expects a constant low operational tempo, and fairly short-distance space travel: currently, the schedule is eight month rotations between the duty post on Artru and the duty post on Panzyr. Persons with dependents are advised to get permanent quarters for them on Panzyr: we do not have plans at this time for constructing a civil sector in Artru. Our current organic asset list is composed of the Combined Arms Union and one BA carrier Leopard; however unlike Pale Horse we will be accepting applications for units over and above our spacelift capacity. In addition, Black Horse battalion is also going to be opening a small school for MechTechs, AsTechs, and MedTechs on Coromodir: we always need more skilled personnel, and it's cheaper to train in-house. Cross-certified personnel will get preferential pay, and more importantly time spent at school is time not spent on a freezing iceball!"
 
More laughter, enough to drown out the sound of Wyrm accepting the microphone along with Horsefeathers. We'd brevet-promoted Horsefeathers to major for Coromodir, but the guy was an accountant first and a mech pilot second- and more importantly, he was an Auregian who'd signed on with us after a short stint in the Restoration Army and wanted off the frontline. 
 
"Last, but certainly not least, is going to be the third and final command: my command," Wyrm said proudly. "The Red Horse Battalion is going to be assigned to the Magistry of Canopus operational zone, garrisoning the Harvest Blades' in-house production facilities and training centers on Adherlwin and around the Free Worlds League borders. Marauders, those of you out there in the audience, I'm not gonna hold a higher-tempo or higher-prestige posting with the other two battalions against you. We're gonna be doing the grunt work here folks: picking up kids with cat ears, teaching them how to drive a mech, and delivering the parts around."
Some grumbles at that, but also some hems and haws. The Magistry, for all the skintflints couldn't pay us enough, was a nice place to live. 
 
"Fundamentally, this will not be a 'quiet' deployment," Wyrm continued. "We expect fairly regular action against pirates, FWL privateers, and possible government-backed forces. It will, however, be fairly stationary. Persons will be assigned to duty stations for one year before rotation, and may request a three-year stint at a home station if they have dependents there. My spacelift assets for this command are the Leopard CV, my personal Leopard, the Mule dropship, and potentially an additional dropship as of yet undisclosed nature."
 
It seemed cruel, but wee weren't giving the Argo over to Wyrm right off the bat. Even after all the work Wyrm and Dr. Murad (a specialist in lostech droppers) had put into it, the ship was still a flying pirate base and we were constantly tracking down a myriad horde of issues. As such, my plan was to take it with us to New Avalon and politely convince- read, bug the hell out of- Hanse to get him to fix it. To make up for this, Wyrm was going to be getting the Fortress (but not the nukes!) for the forseeable future. If she couldn't spacelift everything she needed between the two, there was incompetence or foul play ay work- either one of which, Horsefeathers should be able to handle. 
"Everyone, you're going to need to fill out the operational assignment paperwork you've been sent electronically, then file copies with HR by the close of office hours in a week." Tam said, sighing. "Once everything's been filled out, we'll be able to proceed with setting up assignments and duty rotations, along with making sure we can get dependents to the proper bases. Those of you without dependents, please do not get hitched to a stripper with huge tits so you can bring her with you. That's a waste of company resources for one, and for two we don't want to out-compete the local strippers so the Reach runs out of them if we ever have to leave."
 
Another laugh, and everyone got ready to go. Finally, I sighed before taking in a deep breath for a Big Order.
 
"Company, DISMISSED!" 
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====Preparing to set sail====
Coromodir Orbit, Dropship Argon
July 28th, 3025
"I'm not going to lie," I told Wyrm, looking at her carefully. "It kind of feels I'm giving you my baby here."
 
"And you think I feel any different?" she asked, glaring at me playfully. "I've been working on this bucket for years now!" 
 
"Ladies, you can complain about your boats later!" Sokoloy yelled, making me jump high enough to hit the ceiling. "We've got to go!" 
 
Sighing, I looked at Wyrm. "See you in a few years, then," I muttered. "Take care of Borozoi for me, okay?" 
 
"You too with Argo, then!" she replied, reaching out to give me a big hug. "I'll miss you!" 
 
"You too!" 
 
"Let's fucking go, come on!" 
 
"For fuck's sake, Sokoloy," I growled. "We're not shipping you to the goddamn Fronc Reaches." 
"Up yours!" he shot back. "I'm stuck here until you go because we're both taking the same jumper until Smithton!" 
 
Sighing, I just glared at him. "Do you really want to get put out to pasture that bad?" 
 
"It's been a literal decade since I got a vacation, so: yes." 
"Fuck you too," I grumbled. Still, it didn't take long to get to the bridge and start making plans. We had orbits to break, jumpers to meet, and systems to leave. While the Señora de los Remidios didn't have clearence to use Capellan systems for pass-through travel, it did have general Jumper Immunity, so ideally Tam could make a few calls and get that sorted out. We'd tactfully removed every inch of Taurian livery, so it wouldn't be hard to get that done. 
 
In the re-organization, I'd done decently well, in my humble opinion. Both the Assault and Battle lances had decided to stick with me, and at their request they were sticking together. I'd only gotten one platoon of BA, though, who were mostly going to be doing tech demonstration to NAIS in order to get them to invest in the Harvest Blade's wheat division (our business enterprises) and let us up the amount of endosteel in the world. 
 
Speaking of which, endo steel! Amazing stuff! Wonderful stuff! Literally everybody needed more of it! What did that mean? Fuck us, the only endosteel producers, we had a twenty year long queue to get more of it! We were expanding our orbital production and I'd put in an order to start production at Adherlwin once the Red Horse got there, but god's wounds were we in desperate need of it right now. Hell, we'd even authorized getting an orbital foundry built in Coromodir in our Lagrange Point just to get more of the shit to splash around. I was actively screaming into the void, and so was everyone related to the work. 
 
For all endo steel was going kind of rough, though, everything else wasn't. We'd finally gotten the Light Gauss mostly cracked (please excuse the kick charge system) and a proto-prototype into production, while someone had managed to sneak out a sort-of-kind-of ferro-fibrous armor out. It wasn't proper ferro, not like how we were used to it, but the stuff did in fact work and got the needed protection/ton ratio- even if it took up way too much space. The best news, though, was that our Light PPC line was finally making actual, proper, size-weight-heat compliant LPPCs! Finally! After ten thousand years! No more shitty prototypes!
 
Also some jokers were making 120-rated XLFEs because apparently the engine-workers were trying to make a guild in the most brain-damaged way possible and it was only due to Frequent Demonstrations were the half-literate idiots taught "don't try to artificially limit the jobs pool" and other such lessons. Fortunately, they were all incredibly bougie high-end worker things, so everyone below them ratted the issues out fast as fast could be. Plus side? More super expensive engines we could sell. Minus side? We had more demand for our non-270 XLFEs than our mainline engines, so we had the engines the facility was built to produce starting to pile up in an awkward way. Ideally we'd sell them to the Lyrans or something, but I wasn't in charge of that. 
 
Either way, it really wasn't much of my issue, and I just rode the Argo all the way to New Avalon with a smile and the knowledge we'd never get a chance to enjoy this ship as empty as it was this time ever again. It was almost like a honeymoon: not much to do except spend time with people I liked, so I just did that. In the bedroom, in the lounge, in the pool, in the briefing room... yep. Just enjoying time with friends. Like my husband. Vigorously. 
 
I really hoped Hanse's repair and restoration guys had good filters for their masks or integral air supplies, though. A lot of places had much worse ventilation than we expected, so they stank a little after use- and then it fermented. Not a pleasant bouquet to the nose, that! Still, since we could pass it off as a Shitty Ship Problem, I wasn't worried. What was worrying me was the random creaking and groaning, along with the crew speaking in tongues. Star league English? Normal, fine. Mandarin? Commonplace, acceptable. Latin? Cringe, sign of possible Marian sympathies. 
 
Pre-Spanish Guarini? We might have to get an exorcism. 
 
Eventually, though, our travels had to come to an end: New Avalon was there, and we were burning in. We'd left in a Mule, a Leopard, and our 'mechs. Now, though? We were riding back with a war under our belts and the second-largest Dropship class ever created. If before had been a casual education, we were now ranked and competitive players in Inner Sphere politics now. I didn't welcome the challenge- but I knew we could handle it.
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