MBMSFS Chpt 7

==Manufacturing a Blueprint for a More Stable Federated Suns‎‎ - Chapter 7 - - Stable Foundations -==
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===Problems with the neighbors===
[Arthur Corean]
[Yubara City]
[Petrolia II, Petrolia System; Federated Suns]
[July 15th, 3027]
More than two months into the Agri-robot Revival we had made some excellent progress- every Agri-robot in the boneyard was thoroughly cataloged, and in the end, I managed to get twelve of the Acrux Agricultural Tiller robots back up and running thanks to the limited manufacturing capabilities of the dropships from the Bristol Expedition. After we got those robots repaired and once more in the hands of the farming enclaves, we loaded up a dozen or so of the remaining Agri-robots into their dropships and I allowed them to return to New Avalon with their very important Fury tank payloads; the robots they took with them will be part of the Corean Enterprises museums on New Avalon and Augusta.
 
It was nothing short of amazing how getting some machines restored to operation changed the mood and outlook of the people of Yubara City. Where they had once been bitter and despondent there were now bright rays of hope and jovial smiles on the faces of the men, women, and children- though none were happier than the farming enclaves as now they no longer had to deal with the Peuple de la mer d'herbe; the 'Peoples of the Grass Sea'.
 
The same people who have yet to respond to any form of hails from me or the AFFS infantry platoon whom I sent out to meet with them; oh, they got the messages, they just didn't feel like responding in any meaningful fashion. This was why I turned to the locals and my MIIO team to gather as much information as they could, which eventually led me to learn about the yearly meeting between the three tribes that took place every year on the 31st of July. That day had some cultural significance to Peoples of the Grass Sea, as that was the day the 'One Became Three', and even though they split apart they still came together every year to renew ties between them- usually via feasts and marriages. 
 
So I decided that rather than visiting them all individually I'd go through and meet with them all at the exact same time so that we'd all be on the same page. 
 
However, I didn't have high hopes for them because so far they'd ranged from apathetic with the AFFS messengers to... extremely belligerent. The third tribe Lieutenant Orman and his men went to visit were none too pleased to be approached, and while thankfully nothing unfortunate happened there was certainly a lot of posturing and menacing going on. I could only be grateful that the officer and his men were more than capable of ensuring that no violence broke out between him and the people, but seeing video footage of five hundred or more fully grown men trying to gather up and intimidate the thirty-man platoon of AFFS did not endear me to them in the slightest.
 
So it was with that whole situation in mind that I was meeting with Baron Auriel von Mitz, a retired AFFS Mechwarrior who joined the Ducal Guard of Sodus in exchange for a Barony. Every year a Baron from the planet was sent out to Petrolia II to act as the realm's tax collector, and it just so happened that he drew the short straw for this year's collection. The issue was he was supposed to have arrived at Petrolia by January to collect said taxes, usually a tonnage of grains and meat proportional to the year's harvest as well as young men or women looking to join the AFFS, but some unforeseen circumstances delayed his departure significantly. 
 
I'm not going to lie... when I'd heard that the tax collector from another Duchy had arrived in my system, six months late at that, I had been... kinda sorta... wroth. That for all intents and purposes the Duchy of Sodus had never really done anything for the people of Petrolia just made me that much angrier. Sure, they provided odds and ends upon request, but the requests were really only made when the tax man arrived, and he wouldn't be coming back with the requested odds and ends until the next guy arrived the following year. 
 
The only thing that stopped me from jumping down the poor bastard's throat the moment his dropship touched down was the fact that the guy was actually very likable, oh... and what also threw me off my game was that the Corean Gem had gone missing.
 
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"Oh, yes, I had heard that you had gotten the Recharge Station here back into service," The older man smiled as he ran his fingers along his mustache, "So it sort of shocked me when we arrived at the jump point and it was nowhere to be found!"
 
I blinked.
 
"What?"
 
The man froze like a deer in the headlights, "I... didn't see the Recharge Station at the jump point?"
 
I cleared my throat before reaching for my glass of water and took a sip, "Oh no, I heard you, I just... let's call it a day and adjourn because there is someone I need to speak to about that."
----
There was only one man who could requisition the Corean Gem, and as it turned out Salim had been notified that it was being borrowed but he hadn't seen fit to tell me. 
 
Which was... annoying but understandable. 
 
If there was some secret squirrel stuff going down somewhere that Hanse needed the Corean Gem for then I could really care less if he took it. Unlike some people, I wasn't as attached to things as others were. Jumpships, Dropships, and Battlemechs were all just a means to an end for me- equipment meant to be used, abused, repaired, and when they weren't able to be repaired anymore... removed from service and recycled. 
 
You'd never see me look at the blown-up husk of a Battlemech and shed a tear over it, though to be fair to those who would, the status of myself and my family wasn't intrinsically tied to the existence of a single piece of combat equipment. Here, in the Inner Sphere, a man could raise himself and his family above the rest of the masses with a Battlemech in his possession, and that meant a lot to a great many people. 
 
Even though I loved Battlemechs- working on them, building them, designing them- since I would never be able to pilot them I had never truly been a part of the Cult of the Mechwarrior... I was an outsider looking in.
 
In more ways than one, I suppose.
 
Which once more brought me back around to the nomads that were currently doing their level best to straight up ignore me.
 
"- so, seeing as I am going to be receiving a great deal more people over the coming years, I'd like to keep the harvest and slaughter on hand so that way I don't have to ship in more food," I leaned back in my chair as I looked over my small desk to the Baron from Sodus, "In exchange I'd like to see if I cannot offer up something else valuable instead."
 
Baron Mitz swirled a small tumbler of brandy, a local make that I hadn't tried because I don't partake, his warm brown eyes considering, "While the Duchy doesn't exactly need the foodstuffs that Petrolia II produces or the hundred or so AFFS recruits that we get to add to our number every year... despite my unfortunate tardiness, I cannot exactly return empty-handed. Even if the System was made into your Dukedom, that does not mean that the tithes from the previous year can be washed away."
 
"Understandable, and no one is disputing that, so I have two possible options we can take going forward," I held up a hand before ticking off two of my fingers, "Option 1 is that I can pay you the appropriate amount of Pounds according to the average value of the crops and meat provided to Sodus over the past five years. It is neat, tidy, and can be handled immediately without either of us having to so much as lift a finger... other than to sign the transfers of funds."
 
"That is definitely a sensible approach," The man sipped at the drink, "While the coin spent making the jumps out here won't be recovered, the fuel savings we'd see from having an unladen dropship would be a balm that would soften the blow. What is the second option?"
 
"The second option is that I offer up ten thousand immigrants as well as the three Saturn Harvesters they own instead."
 
Baron Mitz's greying eyebrows rose up slightly, "Are you speaking of the nomads of this world?"
 
I nodded, "Indeed I am. A single Harvester can clean hundreds of thousands of acres worth of agricultural land per year, handling everything from harvesting to processing and packaging. They can do livestock as well. Just one of those machines can turn even the largest of agricultural operations into a much more manageable task."
 
"Yes, the prowess of those machines is certainly legendary," He twirled his mustache, "While they are certainly not cheap, for three of them? They are a bargain for the price. I'm to believe that the nomads and the machines are what one might call a 'packaged deal'?"
 
My arms came up and crossed over my chest, "Yes, they would be. While I have yet to speak with them face-to-face because they seem to want to believe that my authority over them doesn't exist... the more they ignore me the more I am coming around to the mindset that removing them from my system might be for the best of everyone involved; there certainly is no love lost between them and the vast majority of my populace. Would that be a problem for the Duchy of Sodus?"
 
"As long as they're not radical terrorists? No," Baron Mitz shook his head, "You have a problem that we do not- your population is far too small. We have over six hundred million people within our system- taking in a mere ten thousand and integrating them into our worlds would be a snap."
 
He leaned on his elbow which rested against the wooden arm of the chair, "The key is to divide them up by direct family units and then spread them out among your holdings. A few families per city, village, and town means that over time their connections with one another will severely lessen over time; by the time the third generation is grown up the young adults will only have passing stories from their grandparents about the way things used to be."
 
"It is always a sad thing to see the culture of a people wither and die away, but such is the way of things, I'm afraid, for all of us in the Inner Sphere," He shook his head, "Planets change hands all too often, and the people are forced to adhere to the laws and customs of their new rulers. It's why the Federated Suns does its utmost to liberate the worlds of our foes- so that they can truly experience what hope and opportunity feels like."
 
"Indeed, the Federated Suns leads the Inner Sphere in what exceptionalism should look like," I replied easily, even if there was a part of me that wanted to roll my eyes at the jingoism on display.
 
In the setting, the Federated Suns was ostensibly a 'Daddy Davion Knows Best' state, where individual freedoms and liberties are championed by all. They were the insufferable protagonist faction, the 'Knights in Shining Armor' that were best described by a meme that I'd remembered going around- the image of a fleet of dropships falling from the skies while the invading Davion forces shouted over the airwaves "You are being rescued, do not resist!".
 
The problem was that when your neighbors were the Draconis Combine and the Capellan Confederation, the meme became reality because life for the common person in those realms sucked. The oppression and brutality within those realms were very real, and very thoroughly documented. When the AFFS showed up on a planet it was in the hopes that they were coming to conquer it rather than just raid some Combine factory or smack around some Capellan Garrison, though it came with its own sort of trepidation as even if they were indeed rescued, it was likely only a matter of time before they were inevitably retaken by their old masters once more... and the people who aided in the new administration or cheered for their liberators were rounded up and put against the wall.
 
There were veritable mountains of corpses that appeared every time the Federated Suns lost a world they had conquered... made up of the people who didn't resist the 'temporary occupation' hard enough. Even if it was pure foolishness to send farmers or factory workers out to fight Battlemechs with small arms or crowbars, in the end, the Dragon and the Chancellor didn't care- if you didn't throw your body in front of a tank's treads in the hopes that your viscera and bones could somehow gum up the works, then you were a dishonorable cur that didn't deserve to live. You and your family both.
 
What my old self had considered to be 'horrific war crimes' was just a Tuesday in the Inner Sphere, and while the Federated Suns might like to portray themselves as being spick and span, they had thrown around their fair share of nuclear ordnance over the course of the three Succession Wars. Though they, the Free Worlds League, and Lyran Commonwealth were far less overt about it.
 
"Heh, 'exceptionalism' indeed!" The Baron chortled a touch as he swirled the last dregs of his brandy before tossing it back, "Well then, my Lord, do let me know what the verdict is. Whether the bounty is in Pounds or the Saturns, I don't think my Duchess would care either way just as long as I don't return empty-handed. Though I will need to stop by the HPG and send her a message just to confirm."
 
"That won't be an issue, Baron Mitz. In a few weeks, the nomads will be initiating their gathering, and that's when I'll travel out to see if I cannot suss out what their major malfunction is."
 
"Capitol!" The man stood up from the chair and I did as well, and we both leaned over the desk before clasping hands, "Do let me know what the verdict is!"
----
===Gathering of Normads===
[Arthur Corean]
['Grass Sea' Nomad Gathering]
[Petrolia II, Petrolia System; Federated Suns]
[July 31st, 3027]
The grassy plains stretched as far and as wide as the eye could see, so far that it looked as though the tall grasses melded into the beautiful blues of the sky. Trees out in the 'Grass Sea' were sparse, few and far in between, their tall branches providing shade from the July sun to a few dozen wild cattle while thin streams no wider than a meter and no deeper than a man's knees reached out like arteries from the rivers that were fed from mountain run-off. Small ponds created by the seasonal rains dotted the landscape as we drove through them to our destination, causing our APC and Battlemech convoy to slither like a snake across the terrain instead of maintaining a straight shot from Yubara City.
 
Given this was supposed to be a diplomatic meeting I only took a Company of AFFS infantry with me as well as their APCs, and the Lance of Battlemech escorts were brought along as a cautionary measure given the previous hostility expressed by the nomads; one of the Regiments' Ferret VTOLs circled smoothly overhead to provide some eyes in the sky, and as a tertiary escape plan should things turn sour. 
 
While there wasn't a second seat in the small and light VTOL, there was, however, just enough space behind the seat for me to squeeze into; it would be a hellaciously tight fit given my stature, but if for whatever reason the APCs were not able to extract me on the ground, then they would circle up and create just enough room for the VTOL to land and spirit me away to safety. 
 
Neither I nor the Colonel were happy with this whole event, but 'Needs Must' and all that rot; I couldn't afford to have a whole band of people that wouldn't recognize the authority of myself, and by extension the First Prince. Given the fact that the Duchess of Sodus was willing to take the nomads and their harvesters, which could be easily absorbed by her vastly larger population, it really was now up to the Nomads to convince me to let them stay.
 
We crested one of the largest hills in the area, roughly seven hundred meters away from the nomad's gathering place, and thanks to the elevation, we could see all ten thousand of them well below. At the center was a ring of tents, with the massive forms of the Saturn Harvesters spaced equally apart, and behind the Harvesters stretched columns of tents that ran hundreds of meters long. Their gathering location was right next to one of the largest streams in the area, able to provide the large group of people with plenty of fresh water, and on the opposite sides of the camp were slit trenches for ramshackle latrines. 
 
Thanks to the rather lackluster camera system on the APC I could zoom in just enough to make out men, women, and children playing, bathing, or washing clothes in the slow-moving waters. 
 
I inhaled softly as I shook out my hands before turning to look at the Captain with me, "Are you ready?"
 
Captain Eastbrook, a short man with a stocky but strong build, snorted as he chewed on the nub of a cigar, "I should be asking you that, Duke Corean."
 
"Well, we're not going to get anything done sitting here, so once the 'Mech Lance is in position behind the hill then we can move on down there with 1st Platoon and see if we can't have a nice fireside chat with the Chieftains that have so rudely been ignoring us."
 
We'd be keeping most of the accompanying force right here on this hill, or behind it, so that the nomads wouldn't get spooked and immediately assume the worst was about to happen. We didn't want them getting too defensive before we could actually talk like civilized people, but at this distance, the other two platoons and the Mech Lance would be more than close enough to bridge the distance and provide immediate support if they were needed, which was what I sorely needed.
 
It would be embarrassing as hell if I survived ComStar's assassination attempts only to be laid low by some nomad's shitty bolt-action rifle or a knife in the ribs. 
 
I'd never be able to face my parents in the afterlife that was what did me in.
After waiting a few minutes for the Command Lance to set up, the one that had the fiercely intimidating Atlas in it piloted by Major Esther Tullard, the four APCs of 1st Platoon began to slowly roll over the hill and toward the nomad encampment. Almost immediately we were spotted, and activity picked up quite a bit, but it was plain to see that it was more out of curiosity than fear as people gathered up to watch the column of four vehicles approach rather than start to pack up or run away.
 
The APCs made a long, slow turn once we were roughly fifty meters away from the ring of tents around the center of the gathering, and as we came to a halt and began to dismount the locals backed off and kept a respectable distance. The platoon of Infantry from the 22nd ISTG secured the area immediately around the APCs before the Captain and I made our way out, and that was when a beautiful young woman with sun-kissed olive skin, black hair, and green eyes stepped out to meet us. 
 
A low-cut white shirt bared her shoulders and a generous portion of her bosom, and the bottom of the shirt was hidden by a sky-blue sash tied around her waist; a darker blue skirt came down to her ankles but wasn't long enough to hide the fact that her feet were bare. A blue kerchief the same color as her skirt covered her head, and she had on a fair amount of jewelry in the forms of gold bracelets, bangles, and twin golden hoop earrings.
I straightened up my back as I tucked one hand to the small of my back before I bowed my head slightly, "Hello and good afternoon, Miss."
 
She blinked before her jaw dropped slightly, but her shock passed quickly, "Ah. You do not speak French?"
 
Her accent was thick but her words were crisp and clear.
 
"No, I do not, though I do have a handful of men with me that can translate seeing as the primary language of the... Peuple de la mer d'herbe," I could see her wince as I butchered the French, "Is French. However, I wouldn't be opposed to having someone who can speak both Star League English and French working together; that way we can prevent any misunderstandings."
 
My mind was brilliant beyond compare, and I could crunch numbers and retain knowledge unlike any other person alive, but other than rote memorization... I found that learning new languages was distressingly difficult. It might have sounded childish, but discovering that I couldn't become a polyglot nearly as easily as I could learn mechanical engineering made me give up pretty quickly. 
 
I had better things to spend my time on anyway.
 
"I... understand," The woman nodded, though I could see her eyes narrow slightly in concentration as she looked at my face, the pointer finger on her right hand twirling around as she spoke haltingly, "You... I recognize... you are the man who was on the holo?"
 
"You are correct, Miss. I was the one who paid for ComStar to broadcast the first Town Hall meeting I had here with the people of Petrolia. I am glad to hear that the Nomad Tribes were able to see it," I focused on her instead of the numerous people milling about; I'd leave it to the Captain and his men to handle the security- no one liked a backseat driver, and security was not my forte, "I am Arthur Corean, the new Duke of the Petrolia system, and I have come to meet with the Grass Sea Peoples to discuss where they fit within my domain. Seeing as the Chieftans have decided to ignore me, I have been forced to come to them."
 
The woman was incredibly astute, as from the variety of expressions that flickered across her face I could see that she had some idea as to the gravity of the current situation.
 
She swallowed thickly before nodding, "I am Esmeralda. English is a rarity among my people, so I will be your... interpreter. Please, come with me."
 
"If you would be so kind as to tell your people not to approach our vehicles?" The Captain asked, and the nomad woman raised a hand while speaking rapid-fire French toward a group of children and teens who decided to try and approach the APCs; they were either ignorant of the danger or willfully ignorant of the armed men and women who were guarding them. However, with the young woman's biting words, they were chastised and backed away to leave the AFFS soldiers in peace.
 
As we walked through the ring of tents we were greeted by the sight of a very large fire pit created by stacked stones, and all around the pit the ground had been worn down to hardpacked earth; the pit itself was large enough to contain a massive bonfire, and the donut of dirt around it wide enough that only the strongest of winds could carry embers away. Seeing that there were dozens of women teaching children with bare feet to dance, their feet stamping the ground and kicking up puffs of dust into the air, I could guess what the purpose of the area was. 
 
Esmeralda led us around the large bonfire pit and toward a tented pavilion made up of brightly colored canvas, with the fabric walls pulled up to let the breeze blow through while still providing shade. As we approached I could see large rugs placed down over the ground, with unreasonably large cushions placed on top and lots of thick pillows scattered about. Three men and two women were laid out on top of the cushions, and as the Captain, myself, and Corporal Genuie- one of our French speakers- stepped underneath the blessed shade, the remainder of the two squads spread out around the pavilion to establish security. 
 
The three men were all conventionally handsome, with loose billowy clothes and jewelry about their forms; all had the same eye-searingly bright clothes, and the scent of strong perfumes hung heavy in the air. 
 
Our trio stood near the circle of cushions while Esmeralda spoke in French to the men, likely announcing us. 
 
However, rather than acknowledging her words or our presence, the five continued to chat for almost a full minute before the two women got up and left the pavilion. It was only then that they decided to turn their attention to us, with the one I identified as the leader clapping his hands once before smiling.
 
"Uninvited guests," Corporal Genuie translated, "I would say that it is a pleasure to meet you, but it appears that you do not know the concept of refusal."
 
Yellowed teeth caught my eyes as he grinned broadly, the man running a hand through his sun-bleached blonde hair before gesturing toward the outside of the pavilion, "Out there you will find what you are seeking. You may leave."
 
I inhaled slowly to steady my nerves, and seeing Esmeralda wince made me calm the sudden flare of anger that enflamed my heart. 
 
Be diplomatic Arthur. Now is not the time for hot heads.
 
"Greetings gentlemen! Chieftains of the Grass Sea Peoples," I returned the broad smile to the trio of men as I unbuttoned my suit coat and slipped it off my shoulders before taking up one of the spots on the large cushions that one of the women vacated, "I would say that it is a pleasure to be here, but after your very noted refusals, it appears as though my direct appearance was necessary. If only to hear it all directly from the mouths of the leadership here."
 
The red-headed Chieftain, a man with a gold front tooth, sucked at his lip, "This is a sacred gathering place for our people. You are not welcome here, Outsider."
I loosened up my tie and undid a few of the buttons before rolling my sleeves up, patently ignoring the scathing glares of the Chieftains as I continued, "Had you simply come and spoken with me when I asked you to so many months ago my arrival here would be unneeded. Yet you did not come."
 
I spread my hands wide, "And thus, here I am. So, I know you know this already, but my name is Arthur Corean, and I am the new Duke of Petrolia II; the system and all of its planets were entrusted to me by Hanse Davion, First Prince of the Federated Suns. And I am here to discuss with you what is going to happen in the decades to come for our planet, and where the Grass Sea Peoples fit into that scheme."
 
"And why would we entertain you? The Petrolia system and our peoples have been forgotten by both the Star League and the Federated Suns for centuries- left to fend for ourselves," The brunette man with a patchy beard and blotched pale skin huffed as he crossed his arms over his chest, "Our many greats grandfathers had once prayed for the eyes of the Federated Suns, but we, their descendants, know full well that we can live our lives happily on our own. We do not need you or your First Prince to do that."
 
I listened to Esmeralda's translation and looked to the Corporal who nodded- the contents were roughly correct.
 
"If you had listened to the words I told the farming enclaves and the people of Yubara City then you would know that what happened here was tragic, but something hardly rare in the Inner Sphere. A great many worlds were left to languish without the support of the Star League or their Great Houses when the League collapsed, and the Succession Wars that kicked off soon after have ensured that everyone's eyes have been turned out instead of in."
 
 I made sure to keep my sentences far apart and words clean so that they wouldn't sound unnatural as Esmeralda translated; Lord knows that I have a hard time paying attention when multiple people are speaking at the same time, and I could imagine that hearing a foreign tongue being spoken at the same time as the interpreter's would be difficult to parse at the best of times. 
 
 I gave a very abbreviated version of the speech that I gave to the enclaves and Yubara City, the need to have my words translated slowed it down considerably, but I felt that the delivery was at the very least compelling to listen to. Seeing as they didn't once interrupt me gave me some hope that they might actually listen to what I was saying; they appeared attentive enough, though I could see the red-headed Chieftain's eyes glaze over slightly as he twiddled his thumbs. 
 
Once I'd finished, the three men looked at one another before coming to some sort of unspoken agreement, and the blonde-haired leader's watery blue eyes crinkled slightly as he grinned, "That was a very beautiful speech, our Not Welcome Friend. In fact, one might say that it would raise the spirits of those who actually cared to hear it. However, the issue you seem to be having is that you do not understand that we wish to have nothing to do with you or your Federated Suns."
 
He leaned back on his cushion and grabbed a few grapes from a crystal bowl before popping them into his mouth, "Leave our peoples and our land alone, Outsider. If the Broken Backs wish to kneel then they can, but we are content with what we have-"
 
Halfway through the Chieftain's speech, Esmeralda's face became ashen white, and she started to fumble the words, leading Corporal Genue to pick up for her and continue.
 
He gestured to the edge of the tent once more, "-so now that we have listened and heard your words, we have once more rebuffed them. In person. So you may leave. Go."
 
I looked firmly at the Corporal, my anger masking my shock, "He said that?"
 
The soldier's fists clenched, as did his jaw, but he nodded, "Aye, Duke Corean. That was the contents."
 
"Esmeralda, do you agree with the Corporal's assessment? Or did he miss something?" I arched an eyebrow toward the young woman who weakly nodded.
 
"Y-yes... that is what they said."
 
I crossed one leg over the other before interlacing my fingers over my knee, my eyes peering at the Nomad interpreter, "I know that my people say that the Chieftains are the sole authority here within the tribes, but I must ask you- do they speak for everyone, Esmeralda?"
 
When she remained silent I nodded, "Very well then. Seeing as the Grass Sea Peoples collectively, via the authority entrusted to their Chieftains, have once more refused to even entertain a dialogue with myself as the Duke of the Petrolia system, I am left with little recourse but to banish you all from my domain. In one week a new camp will be constructed to contain you located near the old spaceport, and while you are there you will be processed for a census, have official identification and documentation created, and be medically screened. After that, you will be taken to the Duchy of Sodus which will take you in as well as your Saturn Harvesters. That is all. Esmeralda, I trust that you will translate for these... fine gentlemen? Yes? Then, good day."
 
She gasped as I stood up and walked away from the pavilion with Captain and Corporal following hot on my heels, our security detail flowing in to surround us. 
 
"W-wait! Monsieur Corean!" Esmeralda called out after us as we approached our rides out of the soon-to-be danger zone, "Wait! What did you mean by that!?"
 
I nodded to the Captain who gestured to his men to let her through, and the dark-haired young woman came running up with her skirts in her hand before she came to a stop, "What did you mean?"
 
My eyebrow came up, "I meant exactly what I said, Miss Esmeralda. I am the Duke of this entire system. That includes this planet and everywhere on it. The Grass Sea that your Chieftains have laid claim to? That is mine. The herds that your people hunt? Those too are now also mine. I have sent messengers many times to the nomad tribes in an attempt to open up a civil dialogue, but at every turn, they have been ignored or even threatened."
 
I fixed my clothing up and put my jacket back on as I continued, "I have been more than patient with them, but that patience has reached its end. If someone is incapable of recognizing a dire situation when they see one, then I do not believe they will have anything to offer Petrolia except trouble. I do not like trouble, Esmeralda. Disputes with the enclaves? Blood rivalries? Sworn oaths of revenge? I have no want or need of it."
 
The woman's green eyes were dull behind her full lashes, "What... do you intend to do, Monsieur Corean?" 
 
"To be frank, I do not want any elements within my Duchy that might cause problems. So, with that in mind, I will see to it that the Grass Sea People are deported from the Petrolia system-"
 
"D-deported!?"
 
The grassy plains stretched infinitely under the vast Petrolia sky as we continued our short walk back toward the APC, the woman following on my heels. 
 
 "Yes, as in removed from the planet entirely," I felt the saliva in my mouth turn acidic as I spoke the words; no reasonable person liked being an asshole after all. 
 
 Me least of all, but it wasn't like I was going to kick back and tolerate a bunch of nomads living in my backyard when they can't even be bothered to show up to meet the new Duke of their whole damn system. 
 
That level of flippancy toward authority in a Neo-Feudal society never led anywhere good. 
 
I could feel the nervous energy in the air ratcheting up as people caught onto Esmeralda's despondency, and I could see my own men getting twitchy and the nomads looked one another and began gesturing or having hushed conversations; out of the corner of my eye I could see Captain Eastbrook speaking into his lapel mic, the officer sending out the verbal code to Step Up the readiness level of the escorts.
 
Thankfully, we were able to reach our armored personnel carriers without further issue, and I felt a great deal of tension leave me as I placed a hand up on the armor-plated bulkhead. 
 
I turned my head and looked behind me, my eyes sweeping over the dusty but brightly colored people who were looking on with equal parts curiosity, apathy, and disdain. It was apparent to me that unless something significant happened, these people would never be brought into the fold, and while some bleeding heart might have continued to extend the olive branch, I was not one of those people. 
 
I had too much shit to do, and I couldn't have there be some potential rebel/raiding group fucking around with my shit because I was too hopeful that a bunch of nomads would not cause trouble. I've seen the historical reports, and while the nomads up until this point hadn't actually caused any problems, the nomads under the leadership of the current Chieftans were nothing but trouble. 
 
The only reason why I hadn't received any more complaints about them from the enclaves is because I fixed the Agri-robots and thus the nomad's presence was no longer a begrudging necessity. 
 
Esmeralda fixed her gaze on the ground, shoulders slumped in defeat. 
 
The decision had been made, and the consequences were inevitable.
 
"Monsieur Corean," She began, her voice barely above a whisper, "Is there truly no other way? Must my people be cast away like this?"
 
Fuck, damnit, woman. 
 
I am not the one being unreasonable here.
 
I sighed, the weight of the situation heavy on my shoulders, "Esmeralda, you witnessed their refusal. I cannot allow dissent to fester within the Petrolia system. The Grass Sea Peoples have made their stance clear, and I must act in the best interest of the entire domain."
 
She looked up, the desperation clear in her emerald eyes, "Please, give me one more chance to speak with them. Perhaps I can change their minds."
 
God damnit, Arthur. Be firm. Don't let this teenage girl's impassioned plea get the best of you-
 
"Alright," I mentally kicked myself, "I will give you three days to try and convince as many people to stay as you can. Those who wish to not be removed can make contact with the men who will be staying here to oversee the nomads. Trucks will come to collect them and they will be taken to Yubara city where they will be resettled."
 
It will take time to complete the encampment near the old spaceport anyway, and the more people we can convince to stay now the smaller the camp has to be. I didn't expect any more than ten percent, a thousand or so, to stick around, because the nomads seemed pretty damn stubborn.
 
"The Chieftains are stubborn and persuasive, but I will do what I can," It was with tears in her eyes that she embraced me, "Thank you for giving me this chance, Monsieur Corean."
 
As the rear door to the APC sealed behind us, I could already see the teenage nomad gathering up a handful of people, the young woman speaking to them fiercely.
 
The interior of the vehicle was silent as we trundled away, only a few sighs of relief echoing in the troop cabin.
 
During the trip home I wondered if I'd done the right thing. 
----
===When Plans Change===
[Arthur Corean]
[Yubara City]
[Petrolia II, Petrolia System; Federated Suns]
[August 4th, 3027]
I didn't have high hopes when Esmeralda said that she would attempt to try and convince as many people as she could, and I had been right, though it wasn't from lack of trying on her part I'm certain.
 
The people had lived for centuries without a ruler of any sort, and over the last decade, under the new Chieftains, they had enjoyed a great deal of soft and hard power over the city and the enclaves which they had no issues exercising. As far as they were concerned they were at the very peak of their power, so why would they give that all up and show deference to some nobleman who came from beyond the stars?
 
The answer to that philosophical question had a very real, tangible answer: because I had the fucking Battlemechs, that's why.
 
That and the complete backing of the sole leader of our interstellar empire.
 
I was seated in my office as Esmeralda gave me her report, the woman occupying the chair directly across from me while Baron Mitz from Sodus sat next to her.
 
"We have lived without interference for generations. We need no ruler from a distant land. Should you indeed attempt to remove us, you will rue the day you crossed the Peoples of the Grass Sea." The black-haired young woman's voice was low as she carded her fingers through her hair; depression and grief hung over her shoulders like a dark, heavy cloak.
 
"Hmmm... ominous," The Baron ran a hand along his jaw, "While I highly doubt that someone would be so foolish as to attempt anything while on a dropship that is carrying them through space... well, I have been surprised by the stupid of people far too many times in my life to be flippant. We will need to take our security seriously."
 
I arched an eyebrow, "This won't be a problem?"
 
"Oh, heaven's no! It just means that we'll need to adjust the ratios on the passenger Mules a bit, that's all- fewer people, more security personnel. It will reduce the number of people we can take each trip, but I do believe that between three Mules taking five hundred nomads each... we can have them all nestled within Sodus' loving embrace by the end of October. Though the costs for running the Dropships and Jumpships..."
 
He gave me a meaningful look as he trailed off at the end, and I withheld a sigh, "The additional costs will be paid for by the Duchy of Petrolia, so you needn't worry about this venture costing more than the worth of the tithe."
 
"Capitol!" The Baron smoothly took to his feet and reached across the desk, "We will take the first of the three Saturns as well as the first five hundred of the nomads with us when we leave. That should make constructing the temporary housing a touch easier. I will return to Sodus on the morning of the 9th, so if you could have the AFFS chaps handle their documenting and medical screening before then I do believe we will be set."
 
After shaking his hand the Baron walked out, leaving Esmeralda and I alone in my office.
 
"So," I turned my attention to her, "Who did you manage to convince to stay?"
 
The teen swallowed as she wrung her hands, "I could only convince 387 of my people to stay, Monsieur Corean. They are mainly the outcasts of the tribes- those who opposed the Chieftains or who got too friendly with the farming enclaves. The elderly who are determined to live out the rest of their lives here, or the single mothers with children."
 
I nodded as I wrote her words down onto a noteputer so that I could send them off to the Corps of Engineers so they could assist the local construction firms in building temporary housing that would last a few years throughout the seasons. They wouldn't need to be permanent as over the next few years we'd be building the first modern city on the planet a few dozen kilometers to the north; the current town would be preserved for historical purposes, and would likely be renovated to modern standards as the first city expanded. In a century or so Yubara would become the 'old town' where the rich yuppies with old money lived who wished to get away from the hustle and bustle of the big city.
 
The office was quiet for a moment before she murmured, "So... this is it then?"
 
I did my best to give her a consoling smile, "I'm sorry, but the time for negotiation has passed. I extended my hand many times, and each time I was rebuffed. I have no wish for conflict, but Petrolia must be united in the decades to come, and I cannot do that if there is a large group of people wandering around my backyard who do not recognize the authority of my office and the laws of the land."
 
That and the land that I wanted for another city as well as Corean Enterprises' future sprawling facilities were smack dab in the middle of two of the three tribes' known routes, and there was no doubt in my mind that they would eventually cause problems and then cry fowl when they were slapped across the face for it.
 
She nodded, a mixture of sorrow and acceptance in her eyes. "I understand, Monsieur Corean."
 
"Well then, I have some aerial photographs of the city, would you perhaps like to help me choose a good place to put the new housing for the ones who stayed?"
 
The teen gave me a weak smile, but she slid forward and engaged with me nonetheless.
 
All things considered, it was a rather pleasant afternoon, and we spent a few hours going over the basics of what was going to happen until we were forced to part ways; the local gearheads with some vintage Star League-era muscle cars were going to have a few races on the only straight paved stretch of road that hadn't been patched to hell and back, and I wanted to see that.
----
It took two weeks for the temporary encampment to be completed, with lots of tens supplied from the AFFS and plywood structures built by the local construction firms. 
True to his word, the Baron had left with his lone Mule, the first 500 nomads, and the Saturn Harvester in tow. There had been one attempt to flee made by the Chieftains, but the moment the Atlas and the rest of the Command Lance made their displeasure known the people wisely chose to settle down. Having listened to the reports from Major Esther - call me 'Jouster'- Tullard it looked as though the nomads were having a religious experience while at the same time having an existential crisis; the full realization of what the deportation actually meant sweeping through them and creating some sort of malaise.
 
For a backwater like Petrolia, Battlemechs were things that one saw in a holovid they purchased from the local ComStar HPG station, and never saw in person. In fact, it wasn't an uncommon sight to see the teens and young adults of Yubara pile into whatever vehicles they could source to carry them all and drive out to one of the hills overlooking the temporary fort just so they could watch the Company of Battlemechs conduct maneuvers with the vehicles. Like the Walmart parking lot in a small town, the grassy hills were the best place to let fluffy dreams of being a Mechwarrior fill one's head before doing a little bit of truck bed snogging.
 
The levels of hero worship that Mechwarriors and their Battlemechs had were astounding in the Inner Sphere, and being in a backwater like Petrolia those feelings were only magnified. However, for the nomads who were far more removed from the rest of the galaxy? Seeing a quartet of 'Mechs stand along the crest of a hill was more akin to having Steel Gods look down and admonish them for attempting to run away.
 
Then when their option to run had been taken away from them?
 
That was when the realization started to dawn on them- that the actions of their leaders had consequences that they as a people would now collectively bear.
 
Yet... despite all of that, the nomads still remained loyal to their leaders.
 
Granted I hadn't expected them to lynch the Chieftains and present their corpses to me in order to stay, but that level of dedication made my inner Min/Maxer ache. It was determination like that which made military units stand out in the Inner Sphere, and not for the first time I'd wondered what my defensive posture would have looked like with a few fanatically loyal regiments made up of nomads and their descendants.
 
Then I shook my head and reminded myself that they were only fanatically loyal to each other, and they would be more likely to take their machines with them on their nomadic treks, only to defend their people when the situation called for it.
 
So days turned into weeks as the Peoples of the Grass Sea were relocated piecemeal to the new encampment, where the AFFS troops conducted an in-processing where their identities were established and a medical evaluation was completed. The handful of doctors and medics with the 22nd ISTG were hit the hardest, even with the local doctors and nurses from Yubara chipping away at them. The Colonel put in a request to the nearest AFFS unit and they responded that they'd have a few dozen extra qualified hands with Temporary Assignment Orders to plug the gaps and ensure that this wouldn't be a six-month-long shit show. 
 
Really, Sodus had hundreds of millions of people, would it have killed them to send some doctors and nurses along to help out?
 
During that time Esmeralda had become an indispensable fixture of the transition, the young woman taking it upon herself to act as a liaison between the AFFS and the nomads being processed. There had been a few dust-ups that she had been able to diffuse with no serious bloodshed, though a nomad who slugged one of the enlisted men found out that when you pick a fight with one soldier you end up fighting the whole squad.
 
Funnily enough, she ended up spending more time with Salim than myself most days, the MIIO Station Chief likely picking her brain as to the disposition of the Grass Sea People, which suited me just fine because between my daily paperwork, meetings with the Colonel and the Mayor, and the ground surveys I was conducting with the Corps of Engineers before the first Corean Advance team arrived... I had scarce little free time on my hands.
 
However, when I did have some free time, I spent that hanging around the ramshackle "Community College & Tech School" that was being run by Yubara City, and I helped around the classes as best I could. I had all of the schooling any man could stomach in his lifetime and more, and so I might as well put it to good use.
----
===The Need to Travel===
[Arthur Corean]
[Yubara City]
[Petrolia II, Petrolia System; Federated Suns]
[August 30th, 3027]
Despite the delays due to the nomads, it took only six months, for Petrolia II to finally have a military-grade spaceport- one that could handle up to six dropships up to the massive 100,000-ton Behemoth dropships, or more than double that for smaller dropships. Even if the Behemoth was an ultra-rare sight in the Inner Sphere, only used as a mass delivery vehicle for goods in orbit or landing on worlds that were low-g, the AFFS was a forward-thinking lot; even if no one had built a similarly large dropship that could actually land on a normal planet to date, that didn't mean someone couldn't, so the spaceports were built to exceed those specifications. The military spaceports the AFFS built were rated to handle 150,000 tons, and that was for regular, sustained use, so you know that they were heavily overbuilt for smaller dropships.
 
After a thorough survey of the land, the ground had to be bulldozed, graded, and reinforced, but not after having multiple kilometers worth of dug and lined with ferrocrete to act as pathways for the exhaust of the dropships powerful and hot fusion torches. The space was definitely large enough to handle more, but it was the tunnel networks that were most important as they prevented the ground and surrounding area from being superheated. 
 
For reference, when a Union dropship landed, the heat from their engines could cause combustion of flora within a hundred meters of the landing zone and the only reason those fires didn't spread too far was because most of the oxygen was consumed or displaced by the engines. If they landed in an area without the tunnels, say a field, then the air and ground would remain superheated for hours depending on the conditions outside, meaning that after landing, unless you were inside of a sealed vehicle or Battlemech, you would be pretty likely to get toasted. This was why, upon landing, the Mech and Vehicle bays were always empty of personnel- you needed to disgorge your Mechs and vehicles as quickly as possible, and the enemy wasn't going to wait politely for the air and ground to cool down; ensuring your Techs didn't get scorched was very important for obvious reasons.
 
The tunnels, however, under thick grates of steel, channeled away the vast majority of this heat, allowing for most normal operations to resume within an hour of a dropship landing. This was extremely important to consider when factoring in logistics traffic, as you need to have a solid plan for landing dropships, unloading their cargo, loading their cargo, and then having them refuel and take off again in a timely fashion; adding in multiple dropships coming and going each day and you can see why all spaceports that weren't in the ass-end of nowhere were 24/7 hives of activity.
 
Given that the AFFS Petrolia spaceport was the only 'To Spec' spaceport on the planet, I would be given free rein to use it however I need until such time I can get a proper civilian spaceport up and running. 
 
Just as long as my traffic doesn't interfere with the AFFS' traffic, of course.
 
To that point, two of the slots on the landing pad were already filled; one large and one small. 
 
On the Large pad sat a Mammoth Caro Dropship from Corean Enterprises that landed a few days ago carrying lots of construction equipment, supplies, and the advance team my brother Yuri put together with help from the staff (as well as a few 'shortlist' names I picked ahead of time). Their job was to take the orbital surveys and fly-over data from the Ferret VTOLs I 'borrowed' from the Colonel and conduct a more thorough ground survey to find a suitable site for the future branch of Corean on Petrolia II. Granted I'd already had a few surveys done weeks earlier, but some of the water tables were too shallow for me to build any subterranean structures, so while it was nominally 'wasted time' on the part of the Corps of Engineers, it was actually time saved because now I knew for certain where I couldn't build.
 
It was extra nice because I didn't directly pay the AFFS chaps, but I did pay the Corean chaps... though truth be told the platoon that got selected to go out with me and have a look around each trip was thankful for the break it gave them from months and months of ceaseless construction.
 
My advance team had enough building supplies to construct a small town on board, and enough equipment to make it light work, though their primary purpose was to get the Admin complex up and running so that by Winter of 3029, when all of the subterranean portions of the New Avalon were completed, the two firms I had on contract could come out here and start doing the same.
 
I was going to start this complex off right the first time, and that meant lots of underground production rated for nukes. I didn't remember much about the Word of Blake other than they were all of the worst parts of ComStar distilled into a maddeningly pure tonic of evil and crazy, but other than miraculously managing to kick all five Great Houses on their ass and keep them there, they had a fetish for all sorts of WMDs. 
 
So to tip my hat at them and the very possible threat they might become in the future, all of my complexes would be hardened and rated for CBRN, with all of the necessary decontamination facilities. Even if the above-ground manufacturing got hit with a nuke, the facilities below-ground would be able to churn out enough Mechs and parts to keep the war machine running... albeit in heavily reduced numbers.
 
However, having hardened facilities didn't mean much if the population centers also got nuked; it doesn't matter if your factories were preserved if you had nobody to work them. The town of Yubara was too small, and while I'm going to preserve it as best I can for historical purposes, ultimately I'm going to need to build cities that are just as capable of safeguarding my citizens as the factory workers.
 
To that end, Hanse and Yeathers teamed up to send me a Ducal care package, and while the construction supplies and pre-fab shelters were nice, it was the 1,500 volunteers from Augusta who came aboard a mass transit Mule dropship that was going to make my life a lot easier. Doctors, construction workers, teachers, city planners, governmental administration experts, and their training teams, Waste Management, electricians, plumbers, the whole works. 
 
While everyone else got to sit around in meetings to start planning my new city, the teachers and medical staff were put to work right away; the kiddos needed more personalized instruction, and the nomads needed to be processed and off my damn planet- the medical examinations for 11,389 people still being the primary bottleneck.
 
Everything a city, and by extension, a planet, needed to grow had arrived on a five-year contract paid for by my sister and the First Prince- and this was only the first of ten waves! There would be nine more waves of temporary immigrants that would help me lay the foundations for making Petrolia into the vision I have of it in my mind, and with them, I could start making this dream a reality.
 
The first few waves would be doing most of the heavy lifting, especially the school teachers, but as the children and teens grew up I would hope that they would feel invested enough to stick around instead of striking out somewhere else for 'bigger and better things'. The Inner Sphere was pretty much closed off to them before, the best ticket they had was to join the AFFS, and hoped that enough people signed up with them to bother sending a dropship to pick them up. Or that the dropship and jumpship that came by twice a year to deliver parts and pick up meat and crops were going to a place that had an AFFS recruitment station. 
 
Seeing how the families here stuck together I don't think that would be too much of an issue. However, there was the issue of immigration, of which there would be a lot, that had the locals worried about having their culture diluted. Those were valid concerns, no doubt, but at the end of the day, it was ultimately up to them to preserve their heritage by having children and helping the newcomers adapt to the peculiarities of the planet. 
 
However, it would be ultimately futile for more than small wisps of Petrolia II to persist in the coming decades. Eventually, millions of people would be flocking to Petrolia, likely both from New Avalon and Augusta, each in search of more space and more opportunities. Huge swaths of people would come to buy nice portions of land on the cheap and to make it in on the ground floor of what will one day become the largest Corean Enterprises branch in the Federated Suns.
 
Some parts of the culture will be gained via osmosis, but more will be lost as the immigrants bring their families and sensibilities.
 
Sad, but there wasn't much that could be done about it. 
 
I could not afford to bring in a few thousand people at a time and let them settle in before bringing in a few thousand more. I fully expected the population to double in the first two years, and continue to grow in a similar fashion after that for many years more before slowing down. The truth of the matter was that I needed people badly, both for the factories and the Ducal Guard, and immigration was the only way I'd be able to pump my numbers up enough to make an appreciable impact.
 
Really, I was just lucky that I had Corean Enterprises and its millions of employees to entice over. There would be some who would look forward to a temporary posting on Petrolia as a safe bit of adventurism with some extra pay, but I expected that the majority of my transfers would come from the middle-level and upper-level employees who didn't have many prospects of climbing higher in the ladder at the New Avalon or Augusta branches. When it came to working, in the Federated Suns, most people had a saying: "When it is time for me to retire, make sure to put my office belongings in my casket."
 
'I'll retire when I die' was the order of the day, and not even corporations could escape some parts of the neo-feudalism of the Inner Sphere. While it wasn't nearly as bad as Department Head positions being hereditary, it was a damn close thing; company loyalty in some places could be measured by the number of generations of employees who worked at that same business. So while "Mr. John Hopkins" might not be succeeded by his son, "Mr. Tom Hopkins" in filling a position, it was pretty much close enough as parents usually imparted their work and passions to their children as they grew up. At least until they were bitten by the 'Mechwarrior Bug' and saw their kids rush off to join the military if they tested well enough for neural helm compatibility. 
 
 If you were competent but didn't have any direct room to advance, then I hoped that they would come here, to Petrolia- we have plenty of space to grow.
 
On the more civilian side of things, Yeather's County on Augusta would also serve to funnel lots of people to me- the poor woman had a billion people within her lands to govern, and here I was ready to pull my own hair out over 100,000. Really, Yeathers was an amazing woman who had my undying respect.
 
And I should probably go and visit her after I leave here, if only because I still need to do my walkthrough on the Locust and Trebuchet lines that were being set up; I'd made some great strides in getting some of my best engineers and techs trained up on how the Star League automated their facilities to such a high degree, but they weren't ready yet for me to step away from the controls. The work they were doing on the Sun Chaser tank lines was good, but I'm going to need to do some tweaking to eke out the most efficiency even if some would argue it's "good enough".
 
Pssh, fuck that.
 
I want Corean Enterprises to stand the test of time. If some second falling of the Star League kicked off, five hundred years from now I wanted people to marvel at the engineering prowess of Corean Industries, where LosTech hunters searched for my Company's shit while they were diving into dark holes in search of treasure. 
 
Just good enough didn't cut it, not for me.
 
I'll send a message to have my Automation Research Group meet me at Augusta in a few months and I'll turn them loose and see what they come up with. I can use that time to spend with Yeathers, and spend some quality time with Amelia and Julia since I have only met them a few times since they were born.
 
 Really, I should make the effort to reconnect with them because I want as many of my siblings who aren't tied down by noble duties in the company and helping me out. Yuri is going to be leaving in a decade, and with Julia and Amelia it should give me some time to help put them on the right path... that is if they want to help me out. I'm not going to guilt or force them, but I will let it be known that they are enjoying the wealth, fame, and opportunities that the Corean name provides, and that doesn't come for free. Not that I think they'll grow up to be layabout slugs mooching off the family fortunes, but it is always a possibility- Lyrans do exist after all, and if there is one place that is painfully aware of the shortfalls of generations coasting off of the success of their ancestors without contributing anything of worth since it would be them.
 
 "-and that should cover everything we need to do for the next twelve months," I smiled at the leadership of my Advanced Team as they all sighed in relief and began packing up to leave; disposable paper coffee cups and napkins with crumbs from pastries at the local pâtisserie being tossed in the small trash can near the door.
 
Ah! What a delight it was to be surrounded by my people once more.
 
Don't get me wrong, I'm going to fall in love with the people of Petrolia, and some of them I love already, but there are a lot of things that they are lacking, and long-term planning for things outside of their crop rotations and harvesting/planting seasons was one of them. It wasn't their fault, even I would be gimped if I was born on this planet and couldn't leave until I reached majority. I honestly either would have lost my mind due to boredom or would have made a lot of mistakes involving the local or gypsie girls...
 
Esmeralda was eighteen, and a pretty little thing at that- if I had been born here and she was placed in front of me then I don't think I would have been strong enough to resist the temptation. 
 
However, I am not that man. 
 
I am a man clad in the Armor of God and Science, and I had a sacred mission to protect the place where my family lives and where all of my shit is, and that is what sustains me.
 
"Ah, Arthur, I'm glad I got to you before you went off to your next meeting," Salim Mustafa sauntered in with that charming, roguish grin of his, his hands stuffed into his pockets.
 
"Yo, Salim, what's up dawg?" I smiled and tossed him a wave as I fiddled with my noteputer.
 
His smile faltered a touch, "I... don't know what 'Up Dog' is?"
 
I shrugged, "I don't know either, but I overheard some of the kids saying that to each other and I thought it was funny enough. So, what do you have for me?"
 
He shook his head, the MIIO Chief's mustache dancing as he shut the door behind him before sliding into the closest rolling chair. Once he was comfortable he placed a white noise box on the table and activated it, and even still he spoke in hushed whispers, "The First Prince has been extraordinarily pleased with the progress you've been making here, Arthur. You've surpassed his, and admittedly my own, expectations quite a bit."
 
I blinked and then flushed at the praise. 
 
Salim was someone that I'd come to know very well over the past eight months and he wasn't one easily impressed; dare I say I felt he had higher expectations for me than even Hanse did, and Hanse expected me to deliver him the moon and the stars. Granted, that was likely my fault for being too damn good at my job, but it wasn't like I worked a day in my life- every single day where I was doing science was a blast, even when I came into contact with complex problems that required simple solutions. 
 
Even the days where I wanted to 'suck-start a shotgun', as the farmers around here said, were at the very least rewarding even if I didn't make any progress.
 
Science was all about charting out new territory for others to follow, and deep waters were never easy to navigate.
 
"Thanks, Salim, coming from you that means a lot."
 
"Yes, well, the reason I bring all of this up is because you've done such a good job at laying the foundations for your Duchy that he feels that you would be of more use to the Suns by returning to New Avalon and attending to your, ahem, 'Day Job' as it were," He gave me a lopsided smile as he rubbed at his chin, "Unfortunately there have been some hiccups in some important projects that he wants completed yesterday, and he wants your expertise on the matter as soon as possible."
 
"And by as soon as possible you mean...?" I arched an eyebrow before sipping at the last dregs of my coffee. 
 
"We have a dropship coming to get you on the 'morrow, my good man. Though don't worry, once you've got those things situated I do believe that the Prince will be generous enough to give you some time off," He twirled the end of his mustache, "Your sister will be graduating from Tertiary School early in December, after all, and I'm certain that you'd want to be present for that."
 
"I'd ask how you knew that, but at this point, I'm convinced that you and Yeathers are in cahoots with one another," I wanted to gripe about that, but early graduation meant I could get Amelia enrolled early at NAU starting January... though she'd be a few weeks late due to travel.
 
Yuri having her around might do some good for him, and me. 
 
"Well then, I can do that no problem," And it really wasn't because we had everything for the next twelve months planned out in detail, and there was already some work on the next 24 being completed as well, though anything else after that is just vague 'targets & goals' on a whiteboard.
 
 With all of the qualified people Yeathers and Hanse just handed over to me, along with my Corean team, and the capable outside-the-box thinkers of the AFFS they should be able to handle anything that crops up while I am away. 
 
"Sure enough, but I would like a few things to get worked on behind the scenes while we're traveling, things that maybe the First Prince might be able to help me out with," I leaned back in my chair, the not-so-pristine office chair squeaking terribly, "I'd like to enquire Jalastar Aerospace on Panpour about purchasing their old Centurion Aerospace line. I know they stopped producing them back in 3000 and sold the technicals to Lockheed-CBM in exchange for the Saber's particulars. If they haven't repurposed all of that kit then I'd like to buy it for myself."
 
The Section Chief tilted his head to the side, "Why on Terra would you want that?"
 
I held up a hand.
 
"Well, firstly, Centurions are protecting my planet, and spare parts are going to start drying up eventually, so having the capacity to supply said spare parts would be nice. I expect that the 22nd ISTG and its replacements to stick around for at least another fifteen years or so, which means that those Centurions will be still around unless they get blown up," I ticked off my second finger, "Next, having their equipment and manufacturing line means that I will have some insights as to how to build an Aerospace fighter myself, and the technical papers and manufacturing recipes will provide the rest. I am not an aerospace engineer right now, but by God, I'll become one. Just without the fancy Notation on my Doctorate, which is fine because even without one, I, the CEO of Corean, will deem myself worthy of working on Aerospace projects anyway."
 
He pursed his lips before sucking on his teeth, "If you were anyone else I'd call you an arrogant bastard and swear to never fly on any bird you developed, but know you as I do now?"
 
He grinned broadly, "I still saw you're an arrogant bastard, but unlike pretty much everyone else it's what I like to call earned arrogance. Like that Dragoon Mech Warrior, Natascha Kerensky."
 
Natasha Kerensky? Fuck that Mechjockey, I'm better.
 
At what I do.
 
Which is science. Not Battlemechs.
 
"And speaking of the Wolf's Dragoons..." I held up my third finger, "I want to see if the Prince can grease up a dialogue between Blackwell and Corean Enterprises and help me get their Marauder II specs."
"The Marauder II? That is a fearsome 100-tonner if there ever was one, but you don't even have the lines for the 75-ton design that you have up now, why would you want them, let alone now of all times?" He quirked his lips, "And will you even be able to pay for it all? I know you're financing the expansions thanks to the Crown, but your liquid assets are starting to get a touch light."
 
I rolled my eyes, "If you've read that far into it then you know that House Corean has tens of billions we've accrued over the centuries that we're just sitting on and not using. We only have, like, five summer homes- on only two planets no less! We barely spend any of it, so I will just ask for my sister to invest in the company so that I can continue to expand how I want."
 
How I need.
 
That was the benefit of having all of the lift owned by the family and not the Company.
 
Every dropship and jumpship Corean Enterprises uses is owned by the Corean Family, and not the corporation- a potent self-defense mechanism to prevent buyouts and hostile takeovers.
 
Sure, you might have bought the controlling shares of the company, good job, but do you have enough financials and lift on hand to make up the trillion dollars in Jumpships and dropships that we'll take with us since you kicked us out of our own company? lol.
 
Get fucking bent.
 
That is the main reason why no one has tried to take us over before- we may look like a cheap 'win' for potential buyouts and hostile takeovers, but unlike most of the competition we don't put our crews and vessels on the financials, so appearances were deceiving. 
 
I crossed my arms, and sniffed poshly, "Regardless, I'm a grown man, I don't need you telling me how to spend my family's money. I'm very rich, thank you very much."
 
 Salim grinned as he leaned back in his chair, the MIIO Man interlacing his fingers behind his head, "So, you wish for the First Prince to handle all of your business deals for you then?"
 
"Not just that, but I have some places I want him to check out. If he can't or won't then I'm going to send my own people to do it. After striking it lucky on Bristol-"
 
"Of which the Prince is extremely happy to hear of your success and he very much looks forward to seeing what you'll make of the designs-" He interjected.
 
I rolled my eyes and kept going, "-I am feeling pretty hot, so I want to keep that going while the getting is good-"
 
His smile became strained, as he held a hand up, "-and I think it best if I stop you right there, Mister Corean. No more of this until we get to the dropship."
 
My MIIO Agent made an effort to look around, "While I doubt that they have had any opportunities to make inroads here, I don't think that we should discount it quite yet. News of your ennobling has already spread across the Federated Suns despite the Prince doing his best to keep it contained, so they are now aware. Which is why we are slipping you out while no one is aware."
 
Ah, shit. ComStar.
 
"Well then... I suppose what are we waiting for? I'll cancel the last meeting of the day and head on back and start packing up my gear, then I'll need to swing by the Mechhanger and get my prototype VIPR back. Once I get that thing made pretty much everyone's going to want one."
 
And it will be my pleasure to provide.
 
"Already taken care of, Duke Corean. I knew of this well in advance, so I took the liberty of having the techs remove it and put it into their controlled storage. It will be on the dropship before you will."
 
"Excellent."
 
Sweet. 
 
"Ah, shit. That means I'm going to be stuck with dropship coffee for a few weeks."
 
"The hazards of space travel, I'm afraid."
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