A Proper Gentleman

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=By Cannonshop=
==Overview==
Set a early Republic Era, the story is focus of young man whom was born into a Controversy family, whom he himself does not share their notably notorious persona. Has long move strive keep distance from. This story is a prequel to just before events of the fan stories of the Administrator Universe.
Note, some supporting characters speak in unique Space/Belter speech, some words can be found here in this special glossary.
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==Chapter 1==
Prologue, Groningen Pre-Academy Prep Course, Donegal Province, Lyran Commonwealth, 3083
My Family is famous...well, at least, my uncle is. Well, technically he's my uncle. I can't imagine what my 'father' might have had to be using when I was conceived.
Whatever it was, no doubt it was potent as hell, if he's really my biological father. I suppose I might have been the pool-man's get, or maybe the security specialist, or even some random houseless person's contribution instead.
Lord knows, it could even be a case of 'combine egg and sperm on a slide and insert with turkey-baster, cook for nine months'.
I'm not, you see, a stupid child. If I were, perhaps Benny Bradford wouldn't be my tormentor.
My name is Simon, and I'm the embarrassment of my family. Or, as Benny says it, 'lummox boy'. You see, here in the Year Seven at Groningen Pre-Academic Preparatory School for young gentlemen, I'm what the counselors call 'sized' and the Coach calls Fat.
I'm the largest boy in year seven, almost one meter sixty and one hundred kilograms. I don't play Gridiron, I don't play Hockey, I'm far too fat to play basketball, or Lacrosse, and my growth was more in my torso, than my legs-I'm dreadful at footie, and this is in spite of sadistic bastards from the PE instructors to their assistants trying to run me to death three hours a day four days a week, the other three days? well, that's strength training.
and I've managed to keep my spot in the class despite being a freakish, cow-like dullard, because my marks in Mathematics are far beyond grade level.
But maths and science scores aren't as important at a private school like this one. Here, the only thing that matters, is your bloodline. Mine's an embarrassment.
you see, My full name, is Simon Vincent Klaus Robert Odegarde Hogarth.
Yes, from that family.
Uncle Thomas and my Father decided to send me to this place after my mother's latest adventure in tranquilizers and booze.
I hate them. I hate them all.
"Get it moving, Lardo!! your ass is too wide to fit in a cockpit!!"
$*&*(&$?!! them. I don't want to be a glorified heavy equipment operator! I have no desire to 'carry on' with that 'proud tradition'. 
Why?
Because frankly, I can do the math. Even when my dear famous uncle can't. I'm being tormented because my Uncle Thomas got himself famous piloting an assault battlemech...and if you listen closely to the whispers, he mostly got famous for being able to escape with his hide intact while letting 'the bloody proles' as he puts it, do the actual fighting and dying.
I have a better idea...but get there, I have to tolerate being berated for my size, and mocked behind closed doors as one of 'those' Hogarths.
It won't matter. I know I can solve the right equations. You don't have to be able to fit a pasteboard cutout shape to sit in the central seat of a warship-you just have to be able to do the math.
And I know I can master that, even if I can't master a thirteen minute two-mile running course.
I have five years to study, and when it's time to apply to an academy program, I'm fully going to shove it in my Uncle's face.
I'm going to join the bloody navy.
----
==Chapter 2==
Departure gate, Sanglamore Academy, 3088 
The young man isn't wearing cadet grays. He turned his uniform in after quitting. "I'm done." he'd said.
It wasn't really true, but the humiliation he was supposed to feel, was absent. Simon wasn't the chubby, oversized boy he'd been when he was at Groningen.
at least, on the outside. Years of constant exercising, carefully watching his diet along with his studies, he'd been 'the pick' just at the start of this term.
Simon was a big man, even at eighteen, but he was no longer a FAT man.
It really came down to professor MacAllum's course. It came down to honesty versus success, to choosing between writing what he knew to be true, versus what the professor wanted to hear. Simon decided he couldn't do that.
so he quit.
He walked along the paved road leading to the second most prominent military academy in the Lyran Commonwealth as a former student, rather than hiring a cab, or calling a car, or using a car.
As cars passed him as he walked, and to his right, in the fields of Sanglamore, he could see his former cadet colleagues doing all the things he'd spent part of this year doing.
Things he was not going to be doing himself. At least, he would not do them here.
an automobile slowed as he passed the corner gate of the Sanglamore installation.
"Heyo, Tallboy." The driver had a lilting accent, with a strange fluid guttering, "You needa rida yah? Specepaht?"
He stopped and looked through the open passenger window.
The driver was a woman, almost freakishly thin, with the frail build that could never have evolved in one gravity.
"Yeah, I'm heading for the spaceport."
"Kammaboahd, sallright, outa th' open?" she asked.
it took him a moment to process that he was being offered a ride. "Yes please, and thank you?"
the door hissed open, and she folded the seat forward, "baggage th' hold yah."
He put his bag in the back seat, the front seat folded back and she let him get seated and buckled as the door closed.
"Gotta feeelin." the woman said, "Joo drop out, or kekked?"
"I quit." he confessed.
"ah. 'sokay. you know dirtyfeet schools, they shit for teaching." she cracked as she brought the car up to highway speed. "You gone home, or you got better thoughts?"
it was really prying, but Simon felt like he could talk to this stranger about what he couldn't talk to his own family. "I don't know." he said, "Honestly, I just...I wanted to make it through the Naval program, but the lies, the dishonesty..."
She nodded. "You's got th' look, yah. Where's 'home'?"
"uh...well, my family's on Gallery...except for a few relatives on Tharkad..." he sighed, "God, they're going to be livid."
"So don' tell ehm." She said easily, then changed tacks, clearing up her speech a bit. "If you had a ticket, where would that ticket go?"
He frowned, thinking, before he spoke. "Spider moon, in the Kowloon system, if I could pass their entry requirements, that's where I would go."
"Set on bein a soldier then?" she asked.
"I am eighteen, and a Lyran, and patriotic...at least, I think I am."
"Hm. That's a spendy ticket. How'sabout this, You crew on my ship as an apprentice, we're running the circuits, make Kowloon in October next year, If you do good, I'll sign your guild certification, that's extra points on the Coasties' entrance exams right there, sound good?"
His heart lifted, "Yeah!! I'll do that!"
"Mind it's hard work, and not easy, especially for a Dirtyfoot and a greenie, but I know to trust it when I get the feeling. By the way, Beth Zimmer, you'll be calling me horrible names when you think you're private, and 'skipper' when you're on duty." she smiled, "but I'll put the stars under your feet, youngster. What's your name?"
"Simon...Simon Hogarth." he said, flinching a little.
"Huh, weird name, nice and biblical though." the car reached the off-ramp to the spaceport, "We'll get your papers set up at the shed before lift. We'll need to, you don't have a Skin and you'll need one, I'll take part out of your wages for it for the first three months, and if you work out? maybe you'll change your mind and work to get a stake in your own ship."
"I...I don't know what to say?"
"Say...'yes, skipper, i like that', and appreciate the opportunity. We Folk rarely get to recruit Dirtyfeet the old fashioned way anymore." she said with a chuckle.
----
==Chapter 3==
From Simon Hogarth's personal notes, December 3088
The ship's name, is Mary Ambree. She's a two-collar Merchant class JumpShip, and older than she looks. The Captain is Beth Zimmer1086.
I'm still not ready to call my parents. I know it's petty, I know it's selfish. In a way, I don't care. I've had more time with nannies and tutors, than with my mother or my father, though I've lived with the scandals from them both. I think it's the dishonesty in that home that I may be rebelling against.
It's funny that I can understand that intellectually, when so many of the people I knew in the various boarding schools and preparatory academies had the same sort of home life, and simply accepted it as 'normal', or even 'right'.
Uncle Thomas will no doubt take my abandoning a full ride scholarship at Sanglamore as proof of my fundamental weakness of character. Father may only notice if his lover comments on it, and who knows what mother might think in her cycle between manias, recovery programs, and binges? 
I don't know. What I know, is that Captain Beth hired me without a resume', without training, and without an appointment first, from the side of the highway.
We did the paperwork at the port, signing me into the ship's crew as an Apprentice, getting my 'stake gear' (A used 'bag suit' and a skinsuit with utility overgarment, two helmets, and personal equipment).
My locker is built into my bunking space, the door is also my pallet for sleeping, and I've only got half of it-I'm sharing with another apprentice named Danielle Sivicks-Noght. There's less privacy here, yet everyone is very private.
"You're too open." Danielle tells me, "It's fine among crew-but you need to be quiet around not-crew, diggit? some of us are from Folk families and some aren't."
"So who can I be...open with?" I ask her as I am preparing to start my first real day in null gee.
"Easy 'nough-Rockjacks, Belters, Spacer-borns." she tells me, "Everyone else, you need to watch your words with, don't give 'em more than you absolutely have to, if you're in the habits, then it's best-this is a Folk boat, not a dirtyfeet smack."
"but...I'm...not Folk." I tell her.
"You will be." she says, "That's what it means when a Skipper picks up a stray like you-you're fated to be one of us, so we'll teach you how to be right, the apprenticeship is step one, if you work out, you'll be Staked, one of the families will bring you in deeper. If you don't, and somehow survive it? you'll get a cert card and put ashore at the end of your apprenticeship, and maybe someday your kin will come back to us."
"given my kin? I'm not sure you'd appreciate that." I tell her. she laughs at it, claps me on the shoulder, and tells me, "You did this part wrong, here, let me show how to do it right..."
I spent the rest of the day with her, being shown how to walk the hull and inspect the rigging for the jump-sail.
The view through a suit's helmet is amazing. It's everything I dreamt of as a boy in the tunnels of Gallery.
----
==Chapter 4==
Merchant Class JumpShip, Mary Ambree - 26th December, 3088
Preparation for Jump on a ship this old ends up including crewmen on the hull to keep the retracting cables of the jump-sail rigging clear.
Yesterday, He'd learned how to do a pre-retraction inspection and service. Today, he was with the rigging gang-all four of them, as the automated winches drew in the power leades and the mix of hydraulics and myomers flexed the masts, then rolled the sail into stow.
"...watch the running ribs on your side, Hogarth, see those fist-size rollers?"
"Ah, yes." he answered.
"Say 'ayeh', okay? I guess you need to learn the lang." Danielle's voice on his comm said. "Ayeh for yes, 'nuh' for no, sabby?"
"Um..ayeh?" he inquired.
"correk." she stated, "The rollers-they're connected to a sensor that feeds the CIC's engieboahd, indicator's supposed to show the rate of retraction and indicate when the sail's stowed-only it never really works right-I've crewed Folk Ships, Dirtyfeet ships, even Navy ships-they always have malfs with those, and it's a low priority part so they don't get serviced on most ships. one of your jobs on Sail crew, is to make sure the rollers roll along the length of the cabling, so it sends accurate data."
"what do I do if it doesn't?" he asked.
"Depends on why, but you always speak up on the common channel if you see it sliding or skipping." she explained, "that way the bridge knows that their indicator's off."
"Got it."
as the system went active, he could feel the vibrations as the systems first folded, then retracted the solar sail assembly.
he watched the rollers.
and it worked correctly.
well, that's good...but kind of a letdown. He mused.
Danielle sent Veidt and Konumbe back in, "Come on, Hogarth, couple more jobs out here." 
He made his way to an indicated waypoint near the bell of the station-keeping drive.
She showed him how to verify that the sail assembly was, in fact, properly stowed, this wound up with his first experience with a crowbar for real-because the tie-down clamp hadn't closed fully, and was pinching on a bundle of Myomer.
prying it free so the lock could engage was hard work, made harder because his only leverage came from locking his boots into a loop on the hull built for the purpose, and hauling hullward while she worked on the extenders to get the clamp closed.
"all green." she said. "Now, take your safety line, Hogarth, and secure it to the hull."
He did so.
she locked to the same rail, and switched to the command deck frequency, "ALRIGHT! Sail Stowed!"
"Rajah det, standby."
"What's-"
"Magic." she said to him, "Keep low, okay?"
----
==Chapter 5==
From the journal of Simon Hogarth, dated 26th December, 3088
Jumpship travel is not instantaneous. christ, i'm not sure how to explain this, but everything we've ever been taught is wrong.
it's not instant.
It's forever in there. we don't see it during a jump from inside the hull, I think maybe because...
It's forever. a colorless void is the closest...no, that's wrong.
I'm still scattered mentally from the experience. They call it 'hull surfing', and god only knows how or who came up with it.
I need to gather my thoughts. give me a moment.
Okay, day two of my apprenticeship, I'm learning how to ship the solar sail...and how to unship at the destination, because while it's technically an automatic function, it's so rarely automatic that even Naval vessels maintain a sail crew to prevent accidents and problems.
Most of the time, those crew go inside before jump, but this time, the Bosun had me out on the hull with her when we jumped.
and I saw hyperspace with my own eyes...eyes? mind??
I can't begin to describe it adequately, except it wasn't instant.
it was forever. eternity in a second, a second that stretches for eternity.
Only it wasn't a second, because you can't conduct a conversation in the space of a second.
Not even talking very quickly.
Danielle touched her helmet to mine. "Fantastic, isn't it?!" she asked me.
the sights...did she speak or did I just hear her? I'm still not sure, and it's been six hours since. 
In that...place, that space?
I could hear something indescribable. like the sound of angels...or music? She told me during that experience I was hearing the Choir.
The Choir.
I'm without words to describe the sensations. I can't get it out of my mind, like a craving and a terror and it's all wrapped together.
I can't wait for our next jump.
----
==Chapter 6==
Seginus system, 9th January, 3089
The Seginus system has a month-long approach with four 'waypoint stations'. A good navigator can cut some of that time down, with a risky in-system jump.
Almost nobody does this. The Mary Ambree's contract in the system, however, is time-sensitive and was negotiated over HPG at the client's expense.
Beth Zimmer judged it was worth it, to wait the seven days at the Nadir point, then drop the hammer with the sail reefed, for Seginus system's L1 point-which is about three days travel at onegee, instead of a month.
"All hands to deck and rigging!" she ordered.
Acknowledgements came from the crew as the Sail team took up position for the reefing.
"Engineering, report core status!"
"Core status green, mum! Coolant at one oh five percent rated. Charge is one two fife over optimal minimum and Caps are holding!"
"Reef Sail!"
she watched the monitors and displays, and she watched the suit cams from the sail crew.
her mind was only partly on the crew, the rest of it, was rechecking her calculations for everything from needed drive charge for a transitory point, time of year, hour and duration, the mechanics of plotting an insertion on a moving target. The telescopes had had time to lock on the planet, track its motion and orbital period, the paired moons, and the visual cues of gravitic distortion from masses in the system.
She didn't actually need to recheck the numbers-the "express route" in the Seginus system wasn't exactly a secret, it sits on the databases of half the traders in the Commonwealth because while the waystations are nice for dropship crew, some cargoes have a time limit.
the numbers added up. 
"Sail reefed, skippah, ship is ready for jump."
"all hands below decks-that includes you and the apprentice, Dani." she ordered, "no hullsurfs this close in, the field's going to be tricksy."
"Aye mum..." the reply came over the comm.
She checked the time. "Hurry it up while you're at it, Dani, Tide isn't waiting."
The airlock lamp lit, first red, then green.
"ALL hands secure for jump in three...two...one..."
she reached up, punched the calculation in, and hit the initiate.
////Discontinuity\\\\ 
----
==Chapter 7==
Hogarth Estate tunnel network, Gallery, 2 January 3089
"...must speak with him, Thomas, He quit Sanglamore!!" Iris Rebecca Vincent Odegard Hogarth was irate, "My Son quit school and ran away!!"
"DO shut up, Iris, your hysterics are tiresome." Her husband, Reinhardt Klaus Hogarth, rolled his eyes dismissively, "The boy will turn up, and when he does-"
"What do you mean 'turn up'?" Thomas asked his brother, while his sister-in-law glared at her husband. "Surely he's tried to return home, hasn't he?"
Reinhardt snorted, smoothed his dressing-gown and poured another scotch. "No. He hasn't. The last word was from the Dean of Students at Sanglamore, Simon abruptly submitted his resignation from the Academy with no explanations beyond a rather nasty denunciation of Professor MacAllum and a few members of staff, turned in his uniforms, put on civilian clothes, and walked out the gate."
"And credit-tracking?"
"If he's spending money, it's not from his trust fund." Reinhardt noted.
"So...you don't even know where he is?" Thomas asked quietly.
"No...and frankly, I could care less so long as he doesn't embarrass the family with another scandal on top of what he's already done."
"And his welfare?" Thomas asked his brother carefully.
"I'll leave that to the man most likely to actually be his father." Reinhardt snapped, glaring at his wife, and then, at his brother, "If you care, do as you will, as for me, I've a meeting this afternoon and I don't care for this...spectacle."
Thomas harrumphed and turned to his sister in law. "Iris, do you know where he is?"
"No, and I'm worried-Doctor Sayles said that I'm supposed to make amends to my son for my own health and recovery, and he's nowhere to be found!!"
Thomas sighed, "Iris, I will deal with this, Okay? I'll find out where he is, and I'll speak with him."
"Please!" she smiled and for a moment, was as pretty as she'd been in his eyes twenty three years ago.
"Show him out, Iris." Reinhardt said, "This saccharine display is sickening."
----
==Chapter 9==
Cometary Halo, Furillo system - March, 3089
Simon rechecked the rig, and signaled up to Danielle. "It's ready!"
"I'll see about that." the Folk-born Bosun slid off the pogostick, and took a look. "Ayeh...that's good...yeah, it's ready. Bag's got the right amount of slack."
the refueling rig was a field-deployable refinery consisting of a huge carbonan 'baggie', a series of heating elements, and a processor.
First phase, the heaters would warm the surface of the small chunk of comet, creating a gas environment, which would compress, pushing the newly liberated gases through membranes into collection units, straining useful gases and compounds and concentrating and condensing the product to purify the water, any oxygen, or useful elemental gases.
"Use all the carcass." she explained, "We can sell what we don't need to use ourselves. Halons, Krypton, carbon dioxide can be broken down in the processing and we'll condense the carbons for resale, along with the O2 for use or resale, if we're lucky, we'll get some other nice gases, and of course, the water-ice we're looking for."
He'd already begun to separate some terms. 'pollutants' aren't the same thing in space, among the Folk, a 'pollutant' was an impurity in something that makes it useless...until it's separated out. On a planet, it's anything dumped into the biosphere.
everything can be, and will be, used out here because there's so much space between anything.
"How long are we doing this?" he asked.
"Until we're finished." she told him, "Patience! remember, we're between contracts now, this is maintainence and harvesting time, we'll look at the assays on what we get here, what we can use to top off our own tanks, and what we can sell at the next few markets."
"Right..patience." He sighed, "I need to be more patient."
"Yes, you do. You dirtyfeet, always in a hurry you are, rushing here, rushing there, 'now-now-now' with everything. I ponder it must be because you're trapped at the bottom of the well for so long, so used to being able to waste everything you have..."
"You're not wrong." he frowned, watching the displays as packets and catch-pockets filled with compounds and gases.
"You haven't asked to contact your family." she sidled up to him in the float, and hooked to his harness, "Why is that?"
"I don't want to deal with them." he said, "Not right now, anyway. My Father...well, he makes me wonder if I'm the service tech's kid, and my mother spends her days in narcotic fogs when she's not being a moralist harridan."
"IS there anyone you might care for?" she teased.
He frowned. "I guess my Uncle's alright." he finally said, "At least, he treats me alright even if-why are we talking about my family? there's work here!"
she laughed briefly. "what did you see in the Jump, Simon Hogarth?"
He scowled, "Isn't that private? I seem to recall you told me that stuff was private."
she was quiet. "I suppose I did." her tone was disappointed.
"He's not my father, you know." Simon said quietly.
"The technician?"
"No, Uncle Thomas." he said quietly, "Not my father, My father isn't even my father. My uncle Thomas was the sperm donor, but a father to no-one him...that's what I saw in the dreams. I've known for years he and my mother were lovers. but he's never been a father to me-just an itinerant visitor who clapped me on the back, 'Simon, My boy! You'll be a Fiiine 'mechwarrior! he'd say it, then he'd tell me bullshit stories about his war record that even a basic search on a public server shows are false. He wasn't the man who raised me anymore than my mother did."
"Who did?" she asked.
"The Butler. Jarrod, I decided not to do what's 'expected' of me, because he did just that his whole life, and still got fired after I left for school. My 'father' decided he was too expensive to keep on with his failing health. he died and I got the news the day before I told the Dean of Students what he could do with his precious academy."
"I'm...sorry?" she placed a hand on his arm.
"I wish Jarrod had been my father. I'd rather be a butler's son, than...a Hogarth." Simon almost spat the word. he looked over at her, "So no, I won't be placing calls or writing letters. I'm done with them."
"Don't you have a sister?" she asked
"Technically, yes...she's...we're better off apart. she wants to be part of that world, and I can't articulate how much I despise it."
----
==Chapter 10==
The Nagelring, March 18, 3089
"...distinguished alumni such as yourself, General." Mikel Stafford's obsequious tone didn't grate Thomas's nerves, even though he knew it was entirely feigned. He'd made General, that part's true, and still had a lot of contacts in the Bureaucracy.
But among the tactical officers-the ones who weren't dunderheads, he was despised and he knew it.
Not that he'd ever let on he wasn't fooled by false sycophants.
"Well, it's good to visit the old stomping grounds, don'tchew know." Thomas said, as they approached the Mariel Zwimmer dormitory. "Especially to visit family." 
"Shall I show you the way?"
"I think I know the path." Tom said it in a tone that clearly meant 'go find someone else to fawn over'.
Mikel got the notice, and so Thomas walked up the path to the star-league era barracks, climbed the ferrocrete and marble stair, and entered through the front door.
The Duty cadet in the dayroom looked up, "SIR! do you have a Pass?"
Thomas made a show of searching for it, before producing the laminated card with its RFID chip, and a holo of himself below 'Official visitor' and 'VIP' with a little icon displaying the rank he'd been retired at.
"Oh, General...what's your business?"
"I'm here to see my niece Cynthia on a matter of some importance. Is she in?" he stated.
The Cadet at the desk scanned a log..."Yes. Room 214A, Second floor-"
"I know the layout, Cadet. Thank you." He casually returned the Cadet's salute, and headed up to his Niece's dorm room.
He knocked twice, and heard stumbling and voices on the other side, but couldn't make out the words yet.
The door opened.
Cynthia Hogarth had refused to hyphenate her name, a small rebellion against her mother's modern sensibilities and her...well, her mother's husband's neglectful social climbing.
She wasn't a raging beauty, but money can fix many things. "Uncle THOMAS!!" she squealed, grabbing him in a hug. "It's so GOOD to SEE YOU!!"
Her affections weren't feigned, poor girl. "Good to see you too droplet...may I come in?"
"Just a second, Uncle." She turned, "Magritte! put something on!! You too Lukas!! We have a distinguished visitor!"
the smell reminded him of his own academy days-furtive assignations in dorm rooms between formations and classes. When you get a large number of healthy teens and early twenties forced to live cheek-by-jowl in a coeducational dormitory, there are some things no amount of rules making can prevent.
At least they're not smoking cannabis. He sighed. 
"Come in!", she urged him.
So he stepped in. Her roommates were dressed, at least. The rumpled state of one of the beds and the fact that Cadet Lt. Lukas Petter was still trying to force his foot into his boot...
"Relax." Thomas said, "Cynthia, if I may have a word on the patio?"
"OF course, Uncle." She told him.
----
They'd exchanged the usual pleasantries, she'd told him about some of her classes and he'd listened sympathetically as she described a personal feud with some girl named Von Trunt.
Then he got down to business.
"Your brother has been missing since December." he told her, "He quit Sanglamore, walked out the gate, and vanished."
Cynthia didn't even bat an eye. "Sounds like Simon." She said, "I knew he dropped out..."
"He hasn't shown up-not in the Mercenary trade, not on the credit reports. has he tried to contact you?"
She shook her head. 
"Your mother is worried sick." he told her, "I suppose your father is at least concerned."
"Uncle Thomas..." she snorted a laugh, "IF I were looking for where Simon might go, I would not look at Galatea or the Mercenary trades..."
"Where would you look?"
"Pandora or Kowloon." she asserted, "Since he hasn't shown up at Pandora or you'd be able to find him, I would cautiously suggest looking toward Kowloon, or sorting the various tramp traffic."
"How would that be, and why there?" he asked.
"Simon wants...wanted? he has no interest in being a Mechwarrior." Cynthia told him, "Scandalous, isn't it? he's too damned big to be a fighter pilot, but he's wanted to be in the Navy since he was a little boy. He used to draw pictures of spaceships..."
"Pandora, or Kowloon then." Thomas drew in a sharp breath through his nose. "You're sure?"
"It's humiliating, but yes, If I wanted to find Simon, I would look for where they train Naval officers, and where they might let a recruit change his name to hide his past...so Probably Kowloon-he'll be trying to join their 'Coast Guard' as a back-door into the Navy."
He studied her, "You're not upset he's missing." he realized aloud.
"Simon hates our family, Uncle Thomas. He despises mother and father, and we do not get along. He doesn't write, or call me. when you find him, you give him the what-for!" her eyes burned with a mix of rage and concern.
"I'll...do that. thank you." it hurt, this whole thing was even worse than he'd assumed.
----
==Chapter 11==
From Simon Hogarth's journal, March 30th, 3089
Rendezvous in an empty system. We're trading some of our surplus from the refueling operation over Furillo to another free trader who's got a customer near Sudeten space.
This gave me the opportunity to practice docking rigging. The work's getting easier, and I'm learning more of the dialects out here, like Freideutsch, Belta-Lang, and Rokkajakkah.
The ship we're linking with is from the Kreuzie line, a loose affiliation of free traders working along the former Clan border out to the edge of Rasalhague space, so there's some swedenese as well.
The trade materials are sludge from the sewer reclamation, water, and gases, especially stuff that's not common planetside, since most of their clients are Clanner Merchant Caste.
That's all just the icing. The real trade among Spacers comes from the personal contact and some exchanges of DNA. That's right, you read me correctly. as they say in the marketing classes, 'sex sells' and everyone aboard is expected to contribute, if the price is right.
What are we getting? aside from lots of practice looking over medical files and negotiating for zero gee sex, we're getting pharmacueticals and data to be sold to contacts inside the Commonwealth.
I suppose my parents would be pleased to know, I'm worth 200 liters of an anti-agappant drug plus the formulation for an anti-viral...or at least, that's what a sample of my reproductive cells are worth, plus an evening with a nice young lady who's never seen the surface of a planet in her life, except through a telescope.
We made the exchange in sickbay. I realized that I just can't...stand the thought of...that. She was relieved as well. Nice as she is, we just didn't click, so into the test tube and their doctors will sift the best ones to try for a pregnancy.
Or trade it to another ship, but it's at least got some...dignity? Better than just 'doing it the old fashioned way' and then never seeing each other again.
Still, I did make an effort to make the experience less clinical, in my own oafish way. I got her to laugh a few times, at least. Danielle softened the blow to my ego a bit.
The 'meet' went well otherwise. a bit of a mix of trade, negotiation, and a small party. Opportunities for other business were exchanged, news of cargoes looking for carriers and markets looking for specific goods-all off the HPG networks, what Uncle Thomas would no doubt call 'gray market' dealings.
After the meetup, Danielle explained some things to me I haven't been aware of despite the obvious signs. The Folk have tended to avoid the notice of Comstar in the past, and still keep a lot of their lifestyle and culture away from the established powers. It is a habit begun with the Amaris Coup, extended through the Succession Wars, and into the present by tradition and precedent, but below that, they'd been avoiding 'official notice' even in the days of the Terran Alliance, before the Star League.
"...we used to recruit from planetary populations a lot." she explained, as we finished stowing the docking gear and preparing for the next jump. "The stories planetside, were that spacers would 'kidnap' civilians, especially children, this persisted in the former Rim Worlds and some of the other nations." she clarified.
"Really?"
"Yeah, really. That's why I made the joke about 'traditional recruitment'." she asserted. "Genes are a funny thing, we have to keep a viable population without being trapped to a homeworld, and diversity is always a key survival trait. I'm sure some of the Lines and Families did kidnap unwary Dirtyfeet, or 'impress' them in ports-but only some, and not the successful ones."
"But why?"
"Because for all their insistence on being national powers?" She shrugged, "Dirtyfeet need us to be out here, to be out here in strength. No interstellar nation can survive without interstellar trade. Goods must be moved, and if a monopoly occurs, they won't...at least, not well enough for the markets to remain viable. That's the first reason, the second is we provide a blow-off valve and a safe haven for dissidents. They, in turn, provide us with genetic diversity and a broader talent pool."
"Like I was."
"Yes." she smiles at me, "You were so cute stammering about 'propriety' and being embarrassed at Sov Kiersov's offer, it was adorbs, especially how red you turned!"
"I..admit I'm not 'with it' when it comes to such things." I glance away.
"It's adorbs, Simon. You're a nice man-you may even be a good man, and those are shockingly rare, even among us."
"Tell me the truth, was she offended that I...was reluctant to sleep with her?" I ask.
"Impressed, more like-especially since she could see you're not gay." Dani giggled, "I'd keep you if I wasn't already pledged, Simon. some lucky girl in the Well is going to have a fantastic husband off you."
"Why would I be going back to that?" I turn it on her, "Why wouldn't I stay?"
"It's not in you." she asserted, "You're one of us, but you're also one of them-and you'll go back, once you really learn who you are for yourself. Some remain forever in the black and some re-enter with clearer eyes. You're going to be the second sort."
----
==Chapter 12==
Seginus system, April 5th, 3089
It took some doing, and a few visits with some friends from the old days, but Thomas had a name now.
Mary Ambree.
The MS Mary Ambree, The Boy had run off on a Ship of the Folk.
Thomas had been a good student as a young man, and he'd studied a wide variety of folklore once-space stories and campfire tales, most of it, but whether it's Cappie, Leaguer, Drac, Feddie, or good Lyran stories, there's a common thread in the oral history of the Inner Sphere.
The Folk were landless spacers, beholden to no nation but their own loose affiliation, and in the olden days of yore, before the Age of War, even, they were a place people who wanted to be lost went.
He'd discounted much of that-after all, even before spaceflight there were ethnic groups that had a reputation as gypsies, stealing away with youths and children into the night, never to be seen again.
"And you say they were taking the cargo where?" he asked.
"Furillo, sir, it's been over a month..."
"Well, it's one more step. Thanks for the help, Irving." Thomas kept his expression friendly, "Perhaps we can do further business when this is over."
"I'd like that, Sir Thomas." Irving said, "You always treated us back-benchers with decent respect."
They clasped hands and Thomas stepped out of the fish-smelling food packing plant, into the grim, cloudy outdoors of Seginus.
So they went to Furillo, and now I need to find out whose cargo they took on, and where it's going...
Thomas caught a speed ferry to the mainland and then a cab to the spaceport.
It was time to think of how to approach the boy.
Does he know? Thomas Hogarth felt fairly certain he did. it wasn't a hard stretch, after all, it was an open secret that Reinhardt and Iris were married for commercial and business reasons, there was no love there, and precious little realistic opportunity for Reinhardt to father a son the natural way. 
It just wasn't in Reinhardt's nature, and never had been, though the family had been very efficient at covering for the Baron's assignations even when he was the heir. Thomas had done his part, but that was more out of a loyalty to an older brother. Reinhardt, in turn, had turned a blind eye to Thomas and Iris having their games and fun. 
well, 'fun' was how Reinhardt had put it in one of their few angry arguments. Thomas had, at least, guaranteed the bloodline would continue-twice, one with the ability to carry the family name, even.
He'd done his duty to their family with his brother's blessing, but always with a demand for discretion.
This clouded his mood some. He didn't know what he would say to the boy, when he found him, only that finding him was an urge, and not merely because Iris was distraught and the inheritance was put at risk if something happened to Simon...
Well, something HAS happened. he ran off with The Folk.
Thomas stared vacantly out the window on the way to the spaceport, his mind working through scenarios, how to explain to Simon what his duty was, the weight of it, the requirement that a Hogarth of Gallery be able to inherit the holdings...that running away wasn't an option with good outcomes.
And below the thoughts of filial duty and salic law, the real morass stirred-the damage Simon was doing to an already damaged family with this.
Is it my fault? Thomas brooded as he left the cab, and checked onto a commercial flight to the jump point. Maybe I should have told him, talked to him as a father should...
As his father should have.
He silently cursed Reinhardt for a fool. "The boy will have to see reason." Thomas muttered.
----
==Chapter 13==
MS Mary Ambree, 2 jumps out from Coventry
The nausea of the jump was dissipating and Simon had kept his breakfast down this time. "Secure from jump, Captain." He announced, "We have arrived at the target system."
"Good job, Nav, you've rechecked your observations?" Captain Beth Zimmer was at his shoulder, as he brought up the telescope views outside the hull.
"working that now mum." he answered, laying the open chart and comparing three dimensional images. "We're in the right system." he finally said.
"Three Jumps, three landings stuck. You're turning out to be a good navigator-apprentice." she praised, "It's your shift on Galley tonight."
"Aye, mum." he said, "I promise, nobody will get food poisoning."
"See that they don't, or I'll have you scrubbing the cyclers for the next thirty shift-days. See anything?"
"Planet, looks like we're about ninety seven hours from it, spectrum looks blue."
"Shore Leave." she said, "Also a chance to dip your toe in a little exploration-the planet's a deadworld, has been since the First War, but with enough prep you can survey it and see if the background count's dropped enough-there used to be cities and factories in the system, and we're going to spend the next week doing a little treasure hunting if it's not too dangerous."
"But...it's blue..." he stopped himself.
"Yeah. They used nukes, for a long time it only reflected white, if the cloud cover's dropped enough, the fallout might have degraded some." she clapped his shoulder, "And you've got strong bones, so it should be fun."
----
==Chapter 14==
Former Bayis, Lyran Commonwealth - 3089
On dead world, Simon had disembarked from the ancient Mantee Dropship to see with the Folk survey crew. He looked around the long abandoned Lyran colony world's secondary space port, itself having seen better days. The area had been mostly spared the terrible nuclear apocalyptic from Kurita raiders had inflicted on rest of the planet after having finishing their deep raid in to the Commonwealth from the time of the First Succession War. The near ruinous space port barely resembled one, as it's cracked ferrorcrete landing pad barely held up to the weight of the spheroid dropship's landing legs having landed here. The structures of the buildings that once supported heavy lift vehicle were ridden with holes and crumbling from the terrible storms caused by the raid.
Dani and there rest party drove their old Packrat vehicle down the ramp dropship, "Come, Simon. Time is a wasting, don't want be nasty ground any longer we have too!" 
Still wearing his Light Rat EVA suit due to the possible contaminates in the air, he enter in vehicle's modified airlock door in the rear. Even though he had been reassured, that radiation was no longer high enough to harm him. He was cautious. He made his way to front, slipping in besides Dani, whom was Survey leader. "Okay, there bound be something useful still here. Let's go."
Simon look at the distance, seeing flashes of purpose lightning as unnatural unsettled passed safely away from their location. 
Nodded to Dani, as they she drove off what appeared to be remains of spaceport access road to the wreckage what seem to be the city or was it town?
He thought to himself, Sooner the better, we get this done. 
-----
A week had gone by Simon and the surveyor team had returned to the JumpShip, having gotten some lostech gear they could sell if not use for use else where. To relief of Simon, whom had enough "Shore Leave" for one life time on a dead world.
----
==Chapter 15==
Recharging Station - Kowloon, Lyran Commonwealth, Fall 3089
He knew what was coming having already enter the station. Rumors of Lyran liberality having been on the station...waiting for 'MS Mary Ambree come in. 
Captain Zimmer had pretty much ordered him to the station, having mysterious and heated conversation over comms from her day cabin. 
He called the conversation "You maybe in for it. Our journey together may have come to and end. There someone on the station whom insists in meeting with you. They nearly threatened revoking our registration with the Commonwealth's commercial licensing board. Whatever happens, we'll be waiting hear from you. Just go and meet him."
Having steeled himself, knowing full well his past has finally caught up with him. He went to the cabin, Beth Zimmer told him to go to when on station. 
Entering the small cabin, sat his Uncle. Thomas Hogarth with less than enthusiastic look on his face, wearing his usual dress Lyran General uniform, though he was essentially retired all but in name from the service. 
"Boy, you have caused quite bit of trouble for the family." 
Simon, having prepared for this day for a long time. Knowing he may not be able avoid force the old general could cause him. He had his own plans.
"Hello Uncle." Not making a move to sit. 
"Simon, do you have any idea what you've put us through?? The family reputation is on the line, our fortunes are linked to you! I know restlessness of youth can be daunting, you back to Groningen Pre-Academy get ass back into game. Time of playing around is over!"
"Uncle, I'm not going be becoming MechWarrior. That's final. You want me carry on the "Family" tradition, I will serve the Commonwealth it will be with the Navy."
"The Navy?!", then his uncle composed himself. 
"Yes, the Navy. he told his uncle. I'm sure Iris has told you my feelings about our "Family" I could care less. However, It feels as pull of the Horgarth tradition is not unlike a blackhole!" 
"So.." trying keep his thoughts in marching order "..no matter how you try push me. You will never see me in any those walking contraptions you so love, expect everyone for generations keep using them." 
"You need me...if you do. You will have and my parents will have accept my decision. Or you will never see me again. That I promise you." he said firmly staring at his withered uncle.
His Uncle seem shrink little after his withering attack. Seem was ready to dispute his wishes, and was interrupted. "Should you decide...that you know best for me. I may let it slip how it's possible there maybe problem with family, how my birth and of my sister came about..." His Uncle looking wither even more so. 
I know way know for sure...from look on his face...I maybe right... Simon thought
Finally he looked up at me and said, "Okay, "nepheu" we'll do it your way." 
-----
The End
*Wiki Note : This story was a origin set in the The Administration AU, however the main story itself was cut short.Original post of the story. Yet the story presented here was longer than the original. The last two entries were not released, but from wiki itself having story been cut short like the main one. This is was to give sense of completion to the story.
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A Proper Gentleman
A Proper Gentleman
Category:The Administrator AU