CnC Chpt 3

==Cat and Crescent - Chapter 3 -==
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===The Offer to the sundered===
New Hedon Spaceport
Herotitus, Rimward Periphery
Thursday, September 16th, 3024 
"Company, atten-hut!"
 
The survivors of the Blue Crescent Rangers came to something approximating parade rest. Their feet shuffled on the concrete floor of the warehouse they used as their headquarters on Herotitus. Remihel, as he'd done a dozen times during his service in the TDF, prepared for his first review of the unit.
 
The Blue Crescent Rangers failed to impress.
 
Remihel knew the figures. A small mercenary unit in the Periphery, whether of company size or smaller, had a life expectancy of just over twelve months. Usually they went bankrupt after taking risky contracts. Victory often proved as expensive as defeat. Sometimes the personnel abandoned a commander who lacked the capability to lead. Or they might be destroyed entirely - either in combat with another mercenary company, or with a regular House unit that brought more firepower and reinforcements to the fray.
 
The Blue Crescent Rangers suffered this final fate. They survived longer than most: forty-five months from creation to their final deadly skirmish. After the unit's founding they'd spent three years on Herotitus, serving as part of the garrison in a remote region of the southern continent of Marpessa. When their contract expired, Captain Salazar accepted a series of increasingly risky jobs. Another mercenary unit ambushed them on Bellerophon, destroying all four of the unit's mechs. Captain Salazar died in the cockpit of his Phoenix Hawk. Only one other mechwarrior escaped that ambush.
 
Although the Rangers had a uniform for their unit, only half of them wore it. The rest wore dark coveralls, or simply something in a vague shade of blue. An officer and two senior NCOs stood out from the rest of the battered and uneven line, waiting for Remihel to address them.
 
Half of the Rangers hailed from Aurigan planets. Many former Aurigan Coalition citizens fled the new Aurigan Directorate. If Kamea Arano survived her uncle's coup and now worked with the Canopian government, the Rangers might be a tempting band of mercenaries to recruit... if they were solvent and well-disciplined.
 
"Flacking Blake..." Remihel heard Wes mutter. As a Taurian veteran, he knew what to look for.
 
Remihel turned and walked four steps to the first officer in the row, a brown-skinned man in his late fifties who looked like he was trying to hold in a severe bout of gas. "And you are?"
 
"Subaltern Ramadian Rameshbhai," the man said. "Everyone calls me Ramram. Company legal officer."
 
"Legal officer..." Remihel repeated. "You're the ranking Ranger?"
 
"Yes sir." Ramram's face looked puffy, and he clenched his teeth together. "That's right."
 
When the lawyer offered no further information, Remihel walked onward to the next individual, a man around his own age - late twenties, perhaps, or thirties. He'd shaved his head, but grew out a set of impressively-sized mutton chops. Remihel struggled to take him seriously, despite his clear aptitude as a drill sergeant. "Force Sergeant Mike Reich!" the man barked. "Ground security, small arms and athletic training, tactical operations, disciplinary officer!"
 
"Pleasure to meet you, Force Sergeant," Remihel said.
 
The final officer was a woman in her fifties. She wore blue coveralls with a dozen different unit patches. Not a single patch came from the Blue Crescent Rangers. "Let me guess," Remihel said. "Chief mech-tech?"
 
"Yip, 'at's right!" the woman said, matching a brilliant smile to a cheery voice. "Charlotte Lewis. Everybody calls me Lottie. Or Chief. Or Mom."
 
"I... what?"
 
"Because I keep all the boys in line," she grinned. "Even Tiny Mike behaves."
 
From somewhere behind his right shoulder, Remihel heard Sergeant Reich mutter several dire imprecations for this nickname.
 
Before Remihel could phrase an answer to Chief Lottie, he caught a bit of movement in the corner of his eye. An orange and white cat walked out from behind the ranks of assembled Rangers. Though at least half of its volume was nothing but fluff, the feline still looked shockingly large. It cast him a negligent glance and paused to groom itself about three meters away.
 
One of the Ranger mechtechs - a grizzled, elderly man who looked like he dated back to the Second Succession War - looked genuinely alarmed, and made urgent sounds to direct the cat back into whatever room it escaped from. Sergeant Reich threw the tech a nigh-murderous glance. Chief Lottie looked blank. Ramram's face turned purple before a noisy fart finally erupted.
 
Some of the Rangers behind him gasped and broke protocol to wave hands in front of their faces. A girl standing with the mechtechs - a teenage doppelganger of Chief Lottie - even muttered a horrified "Oh gods!" and covered her face.
 
A younger, more immature version of Remihel would have cracked a joke about it. I call this military tribunal to adjudicate Ramram's violations of the chemical weapons restrictions in the Ares Protocols... But no, it wouldn't do to shame his legal officer in front of the rest of the Rangers. Nor did Remihel believe, as Sergeant Reich's glare indicated, the solution was for the entire company to stand like robots. The Rangers were mercenaries. They showed a degree of discipline, but there were limits.
 
Remihel chose to ignore the general consternation surrounding Ramram. Instead, he took a careful step toward the lounging orange cat. He leaned down, extended a hand toward the cat's head, and threw a wink and a grin at the line of Rangers. "Even the Captain has to pay his respects to the Supreme Commander," he remarked.
 
A few nervous, tiny laughs escaped from some of the Rangers. Sergeant Reich disapproved of both the joke and the resulting levity, but the ice broke. The cat, lounging on the concrete floor, looked up at Remihel's outstretched hand. After a moment, it leaned forward to sniff. Satisfied, it stood up, walked the remaining distance toward Remihel, flopped down on his left foot, and purred in contentment. He felt the gentle vibration of the cat's purr even through his boot.
 
Remihel looked at the old mechtech. His jumpsuit bore the name-patch AKSU, N. "Mister Aksu," Remihel said. "Do I recall that the supreme commander's name is 'Cinnamon'?"
 
The tech nodded. "Aye, sir. Six kilos of regal, cuddly fluff."
 
The cat allowed Remihel to scratch gently under its chin. "Well," Remihel said, "Supreme Commander Cinnamon directs us all to stand easy."
 
Sergeant Reich tried to repeat the order onward. Most of the Rangers relaxed even before the command left his mouth.
 
Well, Remihel decided, time for a bit of a speech. He scratched the cat underneath its ears, and then looked up at the assembled Rangers.
 
"My name is Remihel Greenbrier. The 'H' in my first name is silent, and there's no 'A' in Greenbrier. I'm a Taurian by birth, and I inherited the barony of Blackfoot. As a Taurian citizen, I attended the Ècole Militaire, then put in my four years of Mandatory Service. Normally, that's two years active duty, then two years in the reserves. I stayed active duty all four years. When I finally quit the TDF, I'd risen to serve as a lance commander, and the executive officer of a company engaged in counter-piracy. Before we continue - any questions?"
 
The Rangers stayed quiet.
 
"All right," Remihel said. He shifted to scratching the cat underneath its chin, and felt a deep purr through the leather of his left boot. "Now, let's have an honest talk," he said. "I'm sure the rumors have swirled like a clogged toilet. In normal times, I'd never come in on my first day and level criticisms about your past commanders - living or deceased. But we've got an issue to address, and I'm going to bring it to you straight, cause you all deserve some plain-spoken truth."
 
Remihel stayed down on one knee, stroking the cat. Some of the Rangers crowded forward, the better to hear him. "The previous commander of the Blue Crescent Rangers kept some... very interesting company financials. As near as I can tell, he set up a pretty convoluted scheme to get all of the company's shares owned by this very fluffy kitty... which he must have planned to space afterward, for a bit of quick insurance fraud."
 
The cat purred and closed its eyes as Remihel continued petting it. The Rangers, almost without exception, leaned forward with anxiety. Old Aksu, who apparently served as the cat's caretaker, looked most outraged.
 
"As far as schemes go," Remihel said, "I've seen better. The likelihood of success is pretty low. Given my experience in counter-piracy, this sort of thing could get a D-rated unit like the Rangers blacklisted by the MRB. Maybe even branded as pirates. If they went that far, ComStar would then advertise bounties for your heads, starting at five thousand C-Bills per skull. Good luck filing an appeal. If you don't believe me, research a unit called Casey's Sons of Fury, from 3019."
 
The silence in the rented warehouse felt solid and oppressive. Remihel looked around, watching faces, eyes, and most definitely hands. TMI trained him to read body language, and by the time he finished his visual sweep of the Rangers, he'd spotted enough clues to set him at ease. Mostly.
 
"But that scheme required your previous commander to survive before he pulled it off. Instead, as you all know, Captain Salazar died in combat against Markham's Marauders. His death doomed the Rangers in a completely different way. You're a mercenary company with no remaining Battlemechs. No combat vehicles. No DropShip. You've got two attack VTOLs, a half platoon of leg infantry, and a better-than-average stockpile of repair and replacement parts.
 
"So here's where I come into the picture," Remihel continued. "I bought - at a discount - fourteen of the seventeen owner's shares in the Blue Crescent Rangers. Per the company charter filed with ComStar and the Mercenary Review Board, that makes me owner-commander, able to make unilateral decisions on the company's behalf. I burned 9.6 million C-Bills on those fourteen shares. The safest financial option in front of me would be to fire everyone and then sell off the remaining assets. With current market prices, I'd come out about a million C-Bills ahead."
 
"You can't do that!" one of the astechs protested. "We're owed back-pay!"
 
"I said that's the safest option," Remihel said. "Instead, I'm going to assume an element of financial risk in the hope of greater possible returns. Rather than scuppering the Rangers, I'm going to rebuild them. As I watch the political situation in the Aurigan Reach, I see the region growing more unstable. It's a great climate for me to sell off the assets of a defunct mercenary company... but it's an even better climate for a functional company - one with smart leadership and capable personnel."
 
Remihel left off scratching the cat, stood up straight, clasped his hands behind his back, and let his gaze sweep the room again. "I'm making a bet that this investment pays off. You make the bet that I'm the smart leadership who can keep the company alive, intact, and financially profitable. If you don't want to take that chance, I understand. Herotitus is your stop to muster out. I'll square up your back-pay. I understand that all of you have something on the books. And I'll add a severance of one thousand C-Bills."
 
Amidst the low murmur and whispers, crusty old Aksu spoke up. "What about those who stay?"
 
"Well, now..." Remihel said, smiling. "I plan to start by squaring up your back-pay, same as everyone else. After that, I raise the pay scale by five percent. Over the next three months, my financial officer - that's Sarah Cao, standing here behind me - will restructure the shares system. At the end of the fourth financial quarter, all remaining Rangers will receive fractional shares. We'll calculate that by your current rank and your length of service with the Rangers. This makes you shareholders in the company. When we complete a contract, you profit according to your share. By this time next year, the company I bought for 9.6 million should have an assessed value closer to fifty to sixty million. Those of you who choose to remain should hold about one-fifth of that value."
 
Chief Lottie spoke up. "Is this a scheme?"
 
Remihel turned to look at the mechbay chief, and failed to suppress a short laugh. "I should have predicted that question," he chuckled. "Short answer? Yes! But it's a legal and ethical… scheme… that doesn't involve airlocking any fluffy cats."
 
"How are you going to do this without any mechs?" Chief Lottie continued, still suspicious.
 
"I have mechs," Remihel replied. "Four of them, to be precise. I've brought my own Marauder and plan to lead from the front. I also have a Griffin, Phoenix Hawk, and Stinger. I believe," he added, nodding to Chief Lottie, "you already have some experience with the Phoenix Hawk and Stinger?"
 
"Yip, that's right!" Lottie said. "We kept Cap'n Salazar's P-Hawk in the field til the bitter end."
 
"The bitter end," repeated old Aksu, in a far more sour voice than his superior officer.
 
"Your surviving pilot also has plenty of experience in the Stinger," Remihel added. "I don't need to hire another mechwarrior for it."
 
An awkward silence followed, and Remihel glanced about, looking for the cause. Wait, Remihel told himself. The Rangers have one surviving mechwarrior. Where is he?
 
No one offered an explanation, and after a few more moments of unpleasant silence, Remihel decided to inquire more later, and moved on. "In any case, folks, you've heard my offer. You have a few days to decide whether to accept."
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===Bringing the new team Together===
Two junior astechs working in Chief Lottie's crew declined to stay with the company. Remihel called that a good result, and spent the rest of the afternoon meeting with his new employees.
 
He discovered that many of them shared family ties. The crew of mechtechs included the Espinosa brothers, Marco and Jorge. They emphasized no relation to Santiago Espinosa, the dictator of the Aurigan Directorate. Chief Lottie's seventeen year old daughter Mia worked as an astech. One of the VTOL pilots, Jason Diao, recently married the company's junior corpswoman, Madison.
 
The two VTOL pilots - Diao and his wing-leader Marius de Vries - proudly showed off their duo of H-7 Warrior attack helicopters, now the sole combat element remaining from the unit's original lineup. Diao, with an aviator's reckless braggadocio, assured Remihel that they could win a duel with any mech he cared to name. De Vries - the senior pilot - expressed his quiet reservations with this boast.
A small infantry component - two squads of nine troopers - formed half of the Rangers' manpower. After brushing shoulders with Taurian special forces and veteran jump infantry, Remihel realized he'd set his expectations too high. Half of the Ranger 'infantry' looked more like rifle-toting mall cops. Their expertise lay in the defense of a small fortified compound. The bright spot - if indeed there was one - was a rather surprising number of combat engineers in Alpha Squad.
 
Even though the leg infantry looked like it would perform better in the food court than on the battlefield, Chief Lottie's team of mechtechs inspired Remihel's confidence. The most memorable of the bunch was the octogenarian Nahuel Aksu, keeper of the company cat. Even Chief Lottie regarded him with something approaching reverence. A mere five minutes convinced Remihel that the old technician possessed more practical knowledge of battlemechs than anyone he'd ever met. Aksu also showed his interest in conspiracy theories. He insisted - with a straight face - that a secretive cult within ComStar manipulated events across the Inner Sphere. Remihel listened politely, ignored Chief Lottie's eye-roll, and continued his tour. 
 
Chief Lottie, with boundless optimism and energy, pinballed through the back shed. She'd spent four years building an equipment stockpile. Chief Lottie also proudly showed off her secret project - a wrecked Shadow Hawk waiting for legs and a new gyro. She'd also collected parts for a Wasp, three right arms for a Trebuchet, and - the ultimate prize - the left leg of a Toro. Remihel immediately sold it to himself, and ordered Chief Lottie to ship it back to Girondas.
 
Sergeant Reich, for his part, showed off the gym he'd assembled. Midway through his tour, he remarked that he'd set up an exercise plan for Remihel and a diet for Sarah Cao. Having thus offended both people who signed his paycheck, "Tiny Mike" hinted that he wanted to recruit a platoon of jump infantry. Remihel made noncommittal noises, particularly after seeing what currently passed for soldiers.
 
At last, Remihel returned to the front office of the warehouse, where Ramram waited with a glum face. The lawyer mopped the sweat off his brow with a handkerchief. "A moment of your time, Commander?" he wheezed.
 
"Of course," Remihel replied, gesturing over to a slightly-more-private area of the office. "But first, are you feeling alright?"
 
"It's normal," Ramram said. "The heat's getting to me." He waved off the inquiry. "I wanted to say, Commander..." He paused, as if searching for the words. "I suppose you've figured out most of the Rangers had no idea about Captain Salazar's plans."
 
"I suspected as much," Remihel agreed. He watched the lawyer carefully. "But there were rumors?"
 
"Yes," Ramram admitted. "After we discovered how much financial trouble we'd gotten into, the rumors started. A lot of rumors..." His throat convulsed at the same time his eyes blinked. Remihel wondered if the lawyer was about to throw up. "I'm the only one who knew about the scheme."
 
"Again," Remihel said, "I suspected as much. Why did you go along with it?"
 
Ramram sighed. "I'm a lawyer working for a mercenary company. I hope it doesn't come as a surprise to you that I don't have a… clean background. I used to handle cases for the Indri Consortium in Marik space."
 
"Mister Rameshbhai, I'm horrified and shocked," Remihel said, completely deadpan. "I'm stunned at this revelation, sir. Aghast."
 
For a few moments, Ramram looked confused at the sarcasm. After a few moments, he figured it out and looked down at the floor. "I do what I'm told - and Captain Salazar told me to help him put the paperwork together." He looked up. "I'll understand if you want my resignation."
 
"No," Remihel said. "That's not necessary. So far as I'm concerned, what you've left in the past can remain there. But I need to be absolutely clear with you," he added. "I don't want to run things like Captain Salazar. I know this company will never be the Wolf's Dragoons or the Kell Hounds, but I will run this unit with high standards. If you don't abide by that rule, I encourage you to use the door."
 
"I understand, Commander. I… I'll stay, if you have me."
 
"Good. Now," Remihel said. "One of the things I brought with me was a new mission contract."
 
"Do you want me to look over it for you?"
 
Remihel handed him the five-page agreement. TMI masked their involvement with a cunning plan. Since de Souza's Reaver's raided a Taurian company manufacturing components on Lyreton, McQueen convinced the company director to pay for a mercenary response. In exchange, the company received a government tax break to write off that expenditure. The Mercenary Review Board took the money up front, and held it for the Rangers upon completion.
 
"You signed this already?"
 
"Before I left the Concordat."
 
"Please don't sign these in the future without consulting me." Ramram belched. "...excuse me. This one's okay. I've seen worse. The money is really good, but the client left some stuff that I don't like. They could pretty easily stiff us."
 
"I'll make sure to include you on future contract negotiations."
 
Ramram nodded. "Thanks. That's why I'm here, after all. That, and being a glorified supply clerk."
 
"Ah? I wondered who did that job. What other hats do you wear?"
 
"Human Resources. Safety officer, on those occasions Chief Lottie doesn't speak up. I've done the company's finances, too. Six months ago I still had all my hair. You know what makes me really happy? You brought a full-time finance girl with you. I'll buy her chocolate for a month."
 
"So you were Captain Salazar's XO?"
 
"No, no, definitely not! Salazar told me I had the tactical and strategic cunning of a bowl of pudding. Cornet Birendra served as XO until his Urbie blew up."
 
Remihel leaned back in his chair. "Speaking of past personnel, I understood that one mechwarrior survived the ambush on Bellerophon."
 
Ramram nodded. "Luke Skinner. Stinger pilot."
 
"So where is he?" Remihel asked. "He's definitely not here."
 
"He's... we don't know. Sergeant Reich went looking for him yesterday. We still have all his gear."
 
Remihel rubbed his forehead. "All right, tell me the entire story."
 
"The entire story? About Skinner...?"
 
"No, about the Amaris Civil War!" Remihel snapped, being slowly driven to sarcasm. "Of course I'm asking about Skinner."
 
"Sorry." Ramram took a deep breath. "We don't know where he is, but he spent a lot of time at a place out on Charles Tagg Road. He ran up a bill."
 
"Oh, lovely." Remihel sighed and rubbed his forehead again. New Hedon, the capital city of Herotitus, deserved its reputation as a massive red-light district. Different areas of town provided distinctive brands of entertainment. The establishments on Charles Tagg Road fell on the cheap end of the pecking order. "I presume Sergeant Reich failed to find him?"
 
"That's right. We don't know where he is now. But we found where he was. He visited a place called Cheong's."
 
Remihel stopped rubbing his forehead and looked up in alarm. "Cheong's? As in Madame Cheong's Temple of Celestial and Earthly Pleasures?"
 
"That's the one." Ramram nodded. "You know about it?"
 
"By reputation..." Remihel sighed. Deputy Director McQueen provided him with a full intelligence briefing on Herotitus. Madame Cheong's brothel served as the informal headquarters of the Capellan Maskirovka. Taurian Military Intelligence did not tangle with Maskirovka. It usually resulted in rather unhealthy consequences for the agents involved.
 
"He's a good pilot," Ramram persisted. "He's just young, and... stupid, sometimes."
 
"All right. Tell Sergeant Reich to keep looking for him, and let me know," Remihel said. "Particularly if it's something I can take care of."
 
"Yes sir." Ramram nodded, and headed for the door. A few steps away, he stopped and turned around. "Thank you, Commander. For giving us - for allowing me - another chance."
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Chapter 3