CnC Chpt 7

==Cat and Crescent - Chapter 7 -==
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===Trying to Get out of here while my life===
New Hedon
Herotitus, Rimward Periphery
Tuesday, September 21st, 3024 
"I expected you a bit earlier than this," Volker said. He sat alone - strangely alone - in the main room of his fiftieth-floor penthouse. "A few days ago."
 
"Sorry… you expected me a few days ago?" Remihel asked. He paused before taking a seat.
 
"Yes. You're here about Josie." Volker smiled. "You charmed her into following you, right? I figured as much. She'll visit my office tomorrow to break contract with the Valkyries. But you," he said, pointing a finger at Remihel. "You want to tell me first and take the blunt of my wrath."
 
"That's right." Remihel slowly sat down on the couch across from Volker, and studied his friend's posture and mannerisms. At ease - relaxed. Hope this is a good sign. "You're not angry, I hope."
 
Volker laughed. "No. As I told you the other day, Josie's a useful pilot to push my higher-ranked pilots. But I can replace her easily. I've got six pit girls waiting for their shot in a mech."
 
"I see."
 
"She'll fight well for you, Remi," Volker added. He grinned. "You'll need to break her bad habits from the arena. Her father taught her basic lance tactics, but…" He shrugged. "Very much a soloist."
 
"Good traits for a Griffin pilot, though."
 
"Mm, not with your current lance composition, Remi."
 
"Ah?"
 
"Marauder, Griffin, P-Hawk, Stinger, Remi? You have no front line. No bulwark." Volker shrugged. "Marauder and Griffin both want to stand back and shoot - time is your friend. But the Phoenix Hawk and Stinger can't stop a determined medium from rushing you, though."
 
"I wish I had a Thunderbolt." Remihel agreed.
 
"Sure, that'd be a great choice. Did you not find one on the market?"
 
"A dealer on New Vandenburg had a Thunderbolt, but it was in poor condition, and cost too much. I decided to pass on it."
 
"It's a seller's market at the moment, Remi."
 
"That's what I understand. Of course, when have you ever seen a battlemech linger on the market for long?"
 
"Rarely." Volker stood up and walked over to the window. He looked out at the glowing lights of New Hedon, spread out below him like a carpet. "Bring Josie back to Herotitus in six to twelve months. I'll set something up for her - a duel against Denise Nixon. Your Griffin versus Nixon's Shadow Hawk, last girl standing. Give me long enough to run the fight promotion, and we can probably clear a few million, split between us."
 
"Maybe." Remihel took a deep breath. "I'll think about it."
 
"Think seriously about it, Remi. Josie's a hot-blooded lady and she doesn't forgive quickly. You give her the chance to go after Denise and she'll take it." Volker sat back in his chair. "Mind a bit of advice before you go?"
 
Remihel held his arms wide. "Go for it."
 
Volker stared at the horizon. Remihel watched him for a few minutes, wondering what he wanted to say. After a long hesitation, Volker finally sucked in a deep breath. "Remember Tatina Cruz?"
 
"The celebrity reporter? Yes."
 
"Tatina's researching you. She asked me a lot of questions… leading questions. I know she visited Josie yesterday, too."
 
"Do you have any ideas what she might be looking for?" Remihel asked. "Does she just want juicy gossip for whatever rag she works for?"
 
"Maybe." Volker shrugged. "Tatina's from Coromodir. Showed up on Herotitus early this year. She looks legitimate. But she moves like an agent."
 
"I'll keep an eye on her if we meet again… but I'm not going to stay on Herotitus much longer."
 
"Good." Volker turned around and returned to his seat. "Get out of here while my life is still normal. Every time I hang around with you, weird stuff happens!" He jabbed a finger at Remihel. "I hold you responsible."
 
"Wait, what? Me? All these years, I've blamed it on you!"
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===Assembled Troops Board their ship===
Trojan-class Dropship, Hondo
Herotitus, Rimward Periphery
Friday, September 24th, 3024 
From the outside, the dropship Hondo looked no different from the thousands of generic ''Danais-class vessels that roved space. She possessed a vaguely spherical shape, engines at the bottom, with decks stacked one atop the others like a fat skyscraper. Hondo's outer hull bore a half-dozen different patch jobs, giving her a distinctly shabby appearance.
Underneath that rough exterior, the Hondo concealed her true nature. Captain Harwood cared quite a lot for his ship, and lavished money on her to keep the vessel in excellent mechanical condition. Blow-off panels on the hull concealed a significant armament. The internal cargo bay included six Battlemech cubicles on her lower cargo deck. The upper deck boasted a mix of cabins, dormitories and cargo space, quite suitable for smuggling both people and things - but also suitable as the mobile headquarters for a small mercenary unit. The ship even boasted a hot tub.
 
But the Hondo concealed a deeper secret. Zachary Harwood might be a smuggler and delightful rogue, but he retained a strong sense of patriotism to the Taurian Concordat. His entire career masked three decades of work for Taurian Military Intelligence, covertly moving everything from supply shipments to special forces teams. From past association, both Remihel and Harwood knew each other's true identity and allegiance. By unspoken agreement, neither spoke about it.
 
It took two days for the Rangers to load all their gear aboard. The Herotitus Defense Garrison prohibited mercenaries from deploying mechs on the planet without authorization. They got downright skittish when Remihel moved Dark and Stormy the one kilometer from the Rangers' rented mech bay to the Hondo's landing bad at the spaceport. The garrison commander himself, in his sixty-ton Quickdraw, came out to supervise the move.
After Remihel loaded the Marauder, more gear disappeared into the Hondo's interior. Crates of spare parts and ammunition went to the upper cargo deck. The two H-7 Warrior VTOLs - with their rotors removed for ease of transport - went aboard next, followed by the new Pegasus hover-tank, purchased in the hope that the techs could replace its inoperable portside lift fan. A Ferret Scout VTOL, packed up like its larger Warrior siblings, followed everything else into the dropship, along with an oddball trio of four-wheeled Outriders, used as runabouts during the Rangers' recent garrison posting.
 
Chief Lottie's Shadow Hawk wreck, still missing its gyro and legs, went into one of the six mech bays. Remihel felt the 55-ton medium had better-than-average chances of getting back into service. Last of all, the Rangers loaded their other mechs, fitting them into the Hondo's cramped internal storage cubicles.
 
Along with equipment, the personnel roster also grew. Anticipating spies, Remihel hired sparingly. An Aurigan expatriate, Mirza Hamid Hosseini, agreed to pilot the Ferret. Two Herotitus locals joined up to help Sergeant Reich crew the Pegasus. Not hired, however, was another mechwarrior - a Taurian pilot with a JVN-10F Javelin - who sought out Remihel looking for a job. Something - Remihel couldn't put his finger on exactly what it was - bothered him about the applicant. Something smelled funny. Remihel trusted his gut. Regardless, he didn't want to hire too many Taurians into the Rangers, lest someone begin to suspect their allegiance.
 
Herotitus now lay astern as the Hondo ascended from the planet's surface, bound for the recharge station in the outer reaches of the Herotitus system. In eight days, Hondo would rendezvous with an Invader-class JumpShip scheduled to travel to Lyreton. Another seven-day trip waited on the other side of that jump.
 
Remihel felt the weight of that timeline as he stepped out of his cabin. Sixteen days - maybe seventeen - to get the Rangers ready for combat. We need to pull together soon.
 
The main barracks deck felt oddly empty. Sarah and Ramram argued with each other in a small office, trying to hash out the details of the eventual reorganization of ownership shares. I'll have to check with them a bit later, Remihel vowed. He heard Wes in one of the four simulators trying to push his own skills to match the rest of his lancemates. Jari Ozcan, the company's not-exactly-licensed doctor, puttered around in his makeshift medical ward, unpacking his kit. And Cinnamon the fluffy cat prowled in the hallway, curiously sniffing the walls.
 
"Where did everyone go?" Remihel said, addressing the cat.
 
She ignored him, though her tail swished a bit faster.
 
"...you're not even supposed to be out," Remihel added. "Captain Harwood is allergic to cats, and wants you kept down in the lower cargo bay."
 
Cinnamon turned, prowled closer, and then sat down in front of him with an innocent little pr-raaoww?
 
"All right, escapee," Remihel said, leaning down and extending his hands. He'd learned very quickly that the big fluffy cat loved to be carried, which ran distinctly at odds with all the barn cats he kept back home. Cinnamon immediately took the offer, jumping up into his arms.
 
"Let's get you back to the lower decks," Remihel said, heading for the ship's cargo lift.
 
When the doors opened on the lower cargo deck, a chorus of whoops and cheers assaulted his ears. Looks like I found where all my people went, Remihel mused to himself, stepping out of the lift and studying the scene.
 
Between one arm of Remihel's Marauder and the waist of the Phoenix Hawk, some enterprising Ranger strung a rope and a net. On one side of the impromptu volleyball court, a shirtless Luke Skinner served the ball on behalf of his team, composed of two astechs and the junior corpswoman. On the other side, Josie played with the Espinosa brothers and Stephanie de Pascale, the company's only aero-tech. The remaining Rangers stood on the sidelines, absorbed in watching the game and cheering on their preferred team.
 
Unnoticed, Remihel slipped quietly behind the other observers and slid into place near Chief Lottie, who called out encouragement to her teenage daughter, playing on Luke's team. When she finally noticed Remihel, about three minutes after his arrival, she gave a tiny jerk of alarm. "Blake's Blood, commander," she laughed. "How long have you lurked there?"
 
"A bit," Remihel admitted. He stroked between the ears of the cat, still sitting in his arms. "Just watching."
 
"I, uh, gave 'em permission," Chief Lottie said. "That okay?"
 
"Why wouldn't it be?" Remihel answered.
 
Chief Lottie did not hide her relieved smile. "Well, we figured you mightn't approve..."
 
"My pilot callsign in the TDF was 'Zimh,'" Remihel said. "Z-I-M-H. It's an acronym. My lancemates said it meant Zero Intelligence, Maximum Horseplay. Does that tell you about my reputation as a junior officer?"
 
"Suppose so," Chief Lottie snorted. "You gonna join in?"
 
"Not today."
 
"Since yer in a permissive mood," Chief Lottie continued, "I got disks of the latest season of Mercenaries! and a bunch of new Solaris gladiatorial stuff before we left Herotitus. Could we have some movie nights?"
 
"A little every night, so long as the work's getting done," Remihel answered. "Tell me when to show up."
 
Lottie's grin got wide. "Yes, sir."
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===Still putting things together===
Upon his return to the upper decks, Remihel found Sarah sitting alone in the officer's wardroom, staring blankly at her financial ledger book. "You okay?" he asked.
 
"Hm? Oh, Remi - yeah, I'm fine. Uh, I mean... Yes sir, Commander."
 
"Drop it - I don't care about that level of formality." Remihel took a seat near her. "What's wrong?"
 
"Just trying to make this work," Sarah said, pointing to the ledger. "You complicated my life when you sold Wallace those shares. Changes a lot of my calculations."
 
"Next time, I'll consult you first," he said. "She took me by surprise. I didn't figure she had that much money stashed aside. Still don't know where it came from..."
 
"Oh, I do."
 
"Really? Where? I didn't figure her gladiatorial career would net her that much..."
 
"A mix of places," Sarah said. "I helped her cash out some of her investments, so I got a few clues. She got a life insurance settlement on her dad, and reinvested it. A quarter of it came in payments for her fights - including a few off-the-books ones - and another big chunk from merchandising agreements through her gladiatorial stable."
 
"Your assessment?"
 
Sarah tapped her stylus against the table a few times as she pondered the question. "She either found a great financial advisor, or she has an undiscovered skill at picking good investments."
 
"Interesting."
 
"I suppose. You realize that if you sold her another half-share - flack, another quarter-share - and you'd lose your supermajority shareholder status in the Rangers?"
 
"The thought occurred to me afterward."
 
"When we divide the company shares in three months, that's going to happen anyway. Depending how we finalize everything - and how the MRB reevaluates our total assets - you might even lose your majority stake."
 
"The possibility exists," Remihel admitted. "I'm fine with it."
 
"You know... this is very unlike you," Sarah said. "You never take major financial risks. Buying a failed mercenary company? Did you hit your head?"
 
"It amuses me," Remihel grinned.
 
"No - breeding horses amuses you," Sarah said. "Scaring the flack out of Wes amuses you. Playing chess on the lowest difficulty setting amuses you. Reading your grandfather's unpublished wizard books amuses you." She crossed her arms and squinted at him in suspicion. "But a mercenary company? I don't buy it!"
 
Remihel turned toward her and affected a skeptical sort of glare. This, he told himself, I need to shut this down . The danger of recruiting close friends to come along while not informing them I'm working for TMI… "Very well," he said out loud, collecting a reason that wasn't entirely falsehood. "Look, Sarah. What's my main job as the Baron of Blackfoot?"
 
"Command Blackfoot's local militia when the FedRats invade."
 
"...or pirates, or Canopians, or, heh, even Aurigans," Remihel said. "But that's right. I raise the militia, organize them, and make sure they have enough training and equipment."
 
"Or that's what you would do," Sarah said, "if you ever stayed on Girondas for very long."
 
"I'm allowed to name a deputy," Remihel said. "My stepfather does a great job at it."
 
"Well, I'm not criticizing him…" Sarah muttered.
 
Remihel waved her statement off. "But I didn't finish, either. My stepfather isn't going to remain my deputy forever. I'm more than capable of taking the leading role at the head of the Blackfoot militia, but I want to keep my skills up, and that means battlefield experience - in command. Do you see?"
 
"Well…" Sarah said, hesitant.
 
"And moreover," Remihel continued, moving in for the kill, "I need trusted subordinates. Lieutenants with skill - capable and calm in battle - who can serve as my deputies in future years. That's why I brought Wes."
 
Sarah twitched. "I figured you brought him because of that crazy love he's got for the idea of being a mechwarrior…"
 
"Oh, that doesn't hurt."
 
"Is that what you're planning to do to him, then?" Sarah asked. "Make him your deputy?"
 
"Well, we will see," Remihel said. "As Wes points out himself, he's not a trained mechwarrior. You know, he's not even seen combat."
 
"And you have, huh?"
 
"Yes. I have."
 
"All fun and games, right? Glorious mechwarriors, striding across the field of battle, knights of the modern age…"
 
"That's what our recruitment propaganda says. Are you fooled?"
 
"No." Sarah shrugged and drained the last of her coffee. "I guess what you said makes sense," she finally announced. "And I'm getting free travel out of it. I only have blurry memories from before we left the Capellan Confederation. It's so much fun to see other planets."
 
"Speaking of," Remihel said, seizing this opportunity to distract her from further questions, "I never got to ask. Did you and Wes enjoy your one-day leave on Herotitus?"
 
"Oh, loads," Sarah said. "We got a really nice dinner at this place called the Yongnian Dynasty. It's one of the restaurants at the Velvet Dominion Hotel. Good Chinese food, even better than I remember. After that, we attended Nisse Kolton's All-Night Fantasy Workshop. That was, uh… wow. We were both exhausted afterward, but it was worth every C-Bill."
 
Remihel tried to keep a neutral face. "Glad you enjoyed it. I've, uh… heard good things."
 
"Oh, hush!" she laughed. "You asked."
 
"That's a mistake I'll never make again."
 
Sarah gave him a side-eyed expression. "Remi," she said, crossing her arms, "we've been friends long enough that I can talk about personal things with you."
 
"Well," Remihel said. "I appreciate your confidence."
 
"I'm not over-sharing, am I?" Sarah asked. "I haven't told you anything I wouldn't tell my brother, and I don't even like him that much." She snapped her fingers a few times in his direction, and winked. "Come on. Do what you usually do, and say something funny and sarcastic."
 
"If you can afford eating at the Yongnian Dynasty and going to Kolton's Workshop, then I either pay you too much… or I don't pay you enough."
 
She laughed. "That's more like it, Remi."
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Chapter 7