WP3025 Chpt 13

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==Chapter 13 - Winged Praxis (Battletech 3015 CYOA)==
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===Strategy of Dueling===
Recharge Station, Zenith Jump Point
Aitutaki System
Principality of Regulus, Free Worlds League
22nd January, 3015
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"So…" said Socks as we watched a pair of Aitutaki cadets trade flashing blows with tulwars, "you feeling confident about this plan, Duster?"
I frowned as one of the cadets turned a blow with his buckler. It wasn't so different from the messer work that I had done in my previous life. Unfortunately for me, they looked to be a lot better than I had been. And as fine as my local reflexes were, local Gideon had not practiced the sword at all. I didn't have the muscle memory I'd need. "I don't have to win to make this work," I said.
 
"Yeah," he said, "but you probably don't want to come off looking like a fool either."
 
"Unfortunately," I said as the crowd cheered at a well-struck blow. I panned my view across the variety of bouts the cadets were demonstrating. "They're really good." I gasped in involuntary wonder as a female Regulan cadet actually rolled back under an overextended blow, then lunged forward like physics were an optional guideline, tagging her opponent. "Did you see that?"
 
Socks nodded slowly. "So, not challenging her then."
 
I nodded. "I'm pretty sure she's the best of them. Maybe if I can eke out a win against someone else it would be worth it to go up against her to give the image that I'm someone who likes a good swordfight, but…"
 
"Gotta win the first match," said Socks in a parched tone. "Shame pistols would defeat the purpose."
 
I nodded. As a good Southwesterner, I was confident in my ability to handle a pistol, and like any Jewish son worthy of the name, had practiced my quickdraw. But edged steel was dominant in the dueling culture here, not firearms. "Maybe I can get them to do something with Bowies…" I mumbled.
 
"Knife isn't a sword, Duster. I don't know."
 
Something clicked. "Wait a second…"
 
"For what?"
 
"Do you see any of them using two-handed swords?"
 
Socks looked about. "No, why?"
 
"I think I might challenge them to a longsword duel." I said, feeling a grin spread across my face.
 
"Okay," said Socks, "are you going to tell me that you've been a master longsword fencer this whole time?"
 
"Nope," I said cheerfully.
 
"Have you even used one before?"
"No," I half-lied. This body hadn't. My older self on the other hand… "But at least it'll be unfamiliar for both of us."
"If you're lucky." grumbled Socks.
 
"How much money did I just inherit?" I asked rhetorically. "Beside, I've got you here."
 
"Yeah," he said. "About that. What's my part in this scheme? Do you want me to do a striptease to distract your opponent?"
 
"If you think it'll help," I said, returning my focus to the tulwar bout in front of us. "But really, your job is to be Regulan."
 
"Distract from the inconvenient fact that we all went to flight school in the Marik Commonwealth?" he asked. 
 
"Exactly. I figure there's got to be a few cadets or recent grads who are snarling at the fact that a couple of Mariks are going at it, and they can't get in on the fun. Or that the Principality just declared for Janos."
 
"You think the war's going to be still going by the time we get ready?"
 
I shook my head. "I doubt it. But that doesn't mean that we can't pick up some troops and techs."
 
"Really? You don't think that Anton can keep things going? Did you hear about what the Dragoons pulled on Vanra?"
 
I had. Jamie Wolf and two of his regiments had smashed the 6th and 9th Marik Militias and driven off both a unit from Oriente and from Orloff. "Sure, that was impressive as hell. But don't forget them getting paddled on Calloway VI. They're good, really good. But they're not gods of war, and Anton isn't covering his forces in glory lately."
 
Socks grunted. "Guess with undecided provinces finally throwing in with Janos you're probably right." He frowned. "Woulda been nice to give em a kick in the teeth again."
 
"We could get lucky," I said, privately reminding myself that Anton was due to kill Joshua Wolf and a selection of Dragoon staffers and dependents in just a few months, and that would be that for the rebellion…along with New Delos. "But I'm not looking to toss us into the grinder until we've built and seasoned up some."
"Yeah, I get it, Duster. Just can't help hoping, you know?"
 
I clapped Socks on his shoulder. "Hey, maybe Max Liao will stop pussyfooting around and throw some more serious aid Anton's way. That'd extend things."
 
He snorted. "There's a cheerful thought. Might finally get Humphries to join in on the fun."
 
"No kidding." I jerked my head towards the sign-up desk for bouts. "Come on, let's see if I can't make this work."
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===Art of Negotiation===
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They did in fact have a pair of feders to simulate longswords. Though that meant that perhaps some of the cadets had trained with the two-handed blades, their unworn condition might mean that my luck was holding.
 
"Armored or unarmored rules?" asked the clerk in a bored tone.
 
That wasn't a great sign, but I maintained my smile. "I don't suppose I can try both, can I?"
 
"Your eagles, Sir." he said as he filled out a form. "Please look over this waiver and sign it if you're comfortable. Even practice swords can be dangerous." I skimmed and signed it. "Please go get fitted for safety gear. Bouts will be starting after the exhibition has finished."
 
"And here I thought I was being clever," said a feminine voice from behind me.
 
I turned to see a woman wearing a well-tailored reefer jacket over an impeccable flight suit. A cutlass hung from a baldric, and a low-tied pistol rode just above tall leather boots on the other leg. A silver skull-and-crossbones pin with rubies in its eyes accentuated a silk cravat, and the whole ensemble was tied together with a gorgeous slouch hat sporting a fluffy plume. Something about the ensemble tickled at the back of my mind. Then the penny dropped as I connected the mirrored aviators hanging from a pocket with some of my old-world knowledge.
 
"Great minds think alike." I said as casually as I could manage as I realized I wasn't the only mercenary poaching. "I think you might be more dressed the part than I am, though." My 'mercenary commander' outfit that I had put together was much more cowboy-inspired than her swashbuckler get-up, as befitted a child of Cerillos.
 
She raised a fire-red eyebrow. "Was that a crack?"
 
I shook my head. "Jealousy, if anything. I don't think I could pull off that hat."
 
That got a smile, and she nodded at my own pair of aviators. "Are we in the same business?"
 
"Duster," I said, offering my hand.
 
"Vixen," she said, shaking it.
 
"Lance and a patrol tug," I said, "currently on a security contract through Canopus."
 
"Fun. I've got a squadron and a Leopard. We're between contracts."
 
"Don't know if you're willing to do Periphery work, but I've got solid intel that there's going to some cadre work around Canopus in a month and change."
 
"Solid intel that you're just willing to give away like that?" She gave me a skeptical look. "Not worried that I'm going to steal the contract?"
 
I shook my head with a smile. "Not in the slightest. There's going to be plenty of work."
 
"That confident, huh?"
 
"Un poco." I shrugged on an armored fencing jacket, and started stretching. 
 
She did similar. "Well, we might see you out there. I was thinking of taking a contract out here, but the rebels look like a bad bet, and I don't relish going up against the Dragoons. Always meant to take a Canopian vacation."
 
I chuckled as I pulled on heavy fencing gloves. "If I'm right, Canopus is hard up for ASFs. Could be lucrative even over the long haul."
 
"I'll keep it in mind," she said as she doffed her hat and started pulling her hair back. "What do you fly?"
 
"Until recently, I was a Sabre driver. Our unit has a Corsair and Stingray, though. You?"
 
She smiled. "I fly the Cheetah. We've got paired Cheetahs, Sabres, and Centurions."
 
"Very nice. Swap some war stories after this?" I grabbed a fencing mask
 
"I'll see if the bar has any Weed."
 
"So nice to meet someone who speaks the language."
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===En Garde!===
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My pleasant feeling from finding another fighter pilot to chat with later was replaced by the feeling of the bottom of my stomach dropping out. Standing across the salle from me was the cadet I had seen roll under the blow. It served me right for not seeing who I'd be matched up with, but it was certainly not what I was hoping for. "Thank you for this match," I said, nodding to her.
 
"Of course, sir." she said with formal politeness, putting on her mask.
 
I considered her for a second. She didn't seem quite as comfortable with the longsword as she had with the saber she had wielded in the exhibition, but I had a healthy respect for her athleticism, and while I did have reach on her, her lunge was phenomenal.
 
Socks, I thought as I put on my mask, if you're planning to go through with the striptease, now would be a really good time to start.
 
We saluted and I let my blade drift low, seeing if I could bait out an attack. She kept her blade high, and started things off with a diagonal cut that flowed down from her shoulder towards the waist. It was a beautiful cut, but also obvious that she wasn't taking me seriously. She could move much faster than that.
 
Which she had to as I flicked my blade's tip up, getting my meat behind my metal and stepped into the cut, turning the blade in my hands and throwing a cut with a windshield wiper motion at her forearms.
 
It was as if she teleported backwards, and I heard and felt the clang of my cut meeting her trailing blade. Inwardly cursing, I did my best to press my advantage, stepping forward to keep behind her point and throwing a rising cut at her face, which she slipped, turning and retreating again. Again, I followed, cutting back down to stuff the thrust she was already developing, only for her to wind her blade high and very nearly stab me right in the mask.
 
A panicked shove bought me centimeters of clearance, and I managed to grab her right wrist with my hurriedly emptied left. With no time for anything fancy, I pulled on her wrist and smashed my pommel into her mask, dragging the blunt blade along her armpit as she reeled for a moment, then set my tip against her collarbone.
 
Gasps rang out from the crowd that had stuck around to watch the paid duels, followed by some perfunctory applause for scoring the point. I guessed they considered it poor form to hit your opponent in a duel with anything other than the blade. Screw em, what did they know about kunst des fechten? Or fighting in general?
 
"I deserved that." said the cadet as we broke apart and stepped back. "My apologies, sir."
 
"That was incredible," I said honestly. "I was sure I was going to get you with the first one, let alone the second. And you should have had me with the thrust to the face."
"I will try and do better, Sir." she said as she resettled into stance.
 
"I'm not scoring any more points, am I?" I asked as I brought my sword up to a mid-guard this time.
 
"That depends on you," she said with a slight dip of her blade. "I will certainly be trying to keep that from happening."
 
"Ow," I winced as Socks and I collapsed into a bar booth. "That may not have been my brightest idea ever."
 
"No kidding, Duster. Why'd you keep going back after the first bout? You made your point by grabbing the first point."
 
"Two reasons," I said, "first, it continued to sell the idea that I was into the dueling culture." I examined a cut on the inside of my mouth from when my mask had smashed my lip against my teeth. That was going to sting tonight.
"Right, okay. What's the second?"
 
I shrugged, carefully, with twinges. "It was fun."
 
"You call getting your ass beat fun?" Socks shook his head. "Man, that's more than I want to know about what you and T-bone get up to."
 
I punched him in the shoulder. "The fencing. Ass."
 
He chuckled and took a swing of the local ale. "Sure, sure."
 
"Anyway, tell me you were able to spread the word to cadets." I said, picking up my whiskey. 
 
He nodded, brushing suds from his moustache. "I did. Maybe a bit of interest? They told me they'd pass on the word at least. There was another guy doing something similar. Big, black man with a skull and crossbones patch. Didn't sound Regulan, at least."
 
"I think I met his boss," I said. "Did he have a sword?"
 
"Short old Earth pirate-looking one." he confirmed.
 
"They should be meeting us here," I said. "With luck they'll have a bottle of Weed with them."
 
"Nice. So they had the same bright idea as you?"
 
"I," I said gravely, "am not the only font of inspiration in the Inner Sphere." I took a slug of the whiskey, grimacing as it burned the cuts inside my mouth. "They're a merc squadron of light fighters, and between contracts right now. I told them that there might be work on Canopus in the near future."
 
"They don't know that you're the employer?"
 
I shook my head. "I don't think they'd follow without me having to give away more that is smart or hiring them for make-work. Besides, they'd probably laugh in my face if I said I wanted to bring them in wholesale. They're a squadron, we're a lance right now. Besides, if they're at Canopus, a cadre contract is going to look a lot more tempting than it will out here."
 
"So make nice, swap stories, talk about how much fun I'm gonna have on Canopus?"
 
"That's the concept." I spotted a familiar plumed hat on a red head followed by a mountain of a man and waved. "Vixen, hey! Let me introduce you to Socks!"
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===Bar Fights and Ethics===
Dropship Siduri, Zenith Jump Point
Aitutaki System
Principality of Regulus, Free Worlds League
23rd January, 3015
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"If there is justice in the world," I said as I awoke with a splitting headache and bruises all over me, "Socks will feel worse than I do this morning." I worked my jaw side to side, feeling the tenderness where a Mechwarrior had tagged me in the excitement last night.
 
At least I assumed that the idiot had been a Mechwarrior. No one else would have been stupid enough to sing 'Triple PPC' around a Weed swilling table of ASF drivers.
 
Flexing my hands, I was pleasantly surprised to find that I hadn't broken any fingers last night. It would be darkly comic if Canopian medicine had fixed the bone I cracked against Liszt's jaw, only for me to break another against a different tinny.
 
Unable to find an excuse, I dropped to the deck to do my abbreviated PT routine, which made my body complain loudly, before I treated myself to a nice hot shower. "Gonna need to schedule another massage." I mumbled to myself as I lathered up. Feeling good about the plan, I cast my mind back to last night and the obscene amount of alcohol we had consumed as we swapped stories.
 
Vixen and her wingman, Candy, had more to share than us. Which wasn't much of a surprise, as they had been active mercenaries for years. While we had just the campaign against the 18th Marik Militia, and the later memories of the occupation hadn't been fit for a friendly drinking session.
 
Candy was apparently originally a Kuritan, and had flown for and against the Outworlds Alliance before linking up with Vixen in the Suns. Vixen was a Leaguer like us, and had flown for the Lyrans, Capellans, and the Feddies as well.
 
Reading between the lines of what they had said, both of them had lost plenty of comrades along the way. It would have been a sobering thought if we weren't drinking stupidly high proof alcohol. Even so, Vixen's thoughts on tactics, with light fighter lances concentrating their firepower on massed targets with slashing attacks, stuck in my mind. Blitzing down targets had its merits.
 
Not having the void combat experience to work the problem in my mind, I set it aside for the moment.
 
Really, last night had been lovely, being a bunch of drunken rowdies in classic pilot fashion. Shame the idiot had to try and sing the wrong damn song. I hoped the news of the dust-up didn't scare away any of the cadets who were thinking of joining our fine profession.
 
If nothing else, I was pretty sure we had made the right impression on Vixen and Candy.
 
Didn't I have something with them later?
 
That was a problem for after breakfast, I decided, throwing on loose clothing and opening the door.
 
Lien was waiting for me. "Gideon…" she started before gasping and grasping my chin, turning my head to the side. "Did you really get in a fight?"
 
I stood there blinking as she looked over my visible bruises, gently palpating a number of what were apparently more concerning marks. "Lien," I said, confused, "what?"
 
"I heard you got roaring drunk and got in a barfight over on the recharge station," she said. "I was worried, Gideon. I've been worried. Ever since we went to see those mercenaries come in, and you lapsed into Spanish, something's come over you." She frowned in concern, letting go of me. "Francois said that you were feeling better, but now I hear that you're drinking and fighting…is something wrong?"
 
I shook my head and looked away. "Nothing's wrong. Yesterday was just a little eventful, that's all."
 
"Barfights and getting falling-down drunk are not 'just a little eventful'," she said. "Gideon, I've been trying to give you some space. You seemed like you needed it, but talk to me?"
 
I looked back to see the compassion on her face and slumped back against the bungalow's wall. "Okay." This was a conversation that was long overdue. "I recognized the Stingray." I explained after a few moments.
 
"I remember," she said. "Your vision is very impressive."
 
I shook my head. "No, I recognized that Stingray. The specific one."
 
Apparently, I wasn't making any sense. "So…" said Lien slowly.
 
"Terri's a Stingray driver," I said, voice gone rough.
 
"Oh!" Lien's hand covered her mouth as the implications landed. "Then the mercenaries…"
 
"Terri," I confirmed. "And two other pilots I knew at LMS."
 
"Well, that explains a great deal," she said. "Had she heard about us?"
 
I gave a rueful smile. "Apparently it's crew gossip if passengers don't sleep with professionals."
 
"How odd. So did your reunion go poorly?"
 
"No," I said. "It went about as well as things could be expected to, given the circumstances. Brushed up against some raw feelings, but…" I shrugged, unwilling or unable to say more.
 
"Poor lady." said Lien.
 
I coughed. "Anyway, I've hired them for a secondary training contract. The upshot is that I'm their acting CO now, and will have them on retainer once we get to Canopus. It'll be keeping me pretty busy."
 
She nodded. "That'll be good for you, I imagine."
 
"Mmmm," I demurred, "it was responsible for the drinking and brawling." At her questioning look, I elaborated. "Recruiting attempt. Pilots party hard, and we're particular about songs."
 
She smiled. "I won't ask." She gave me a hug. "I'm sorry, Gideon."
 
I cocked my head to the side. "What for? I should be apologizing to you."
 
She shook her head. "For being overcome? Nonsense." She stroked my neck. "I'm sorry that things are so awkward with Terri. It's obvious how much you care for her, and for your ethics to get in the way of that…"
 
I stiffened.
Terri. Hired. Politics.
 
Ethics.
 
"…I'll be here for you." she said with a soft kiss on the cheek.
 
Fuck me running.
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*;Notes from the Author : Other things...Vixen is a canon character, Captain Diane Virgil. She appears in TRO 3025 and 3039 as a notable Cheetah Fighter pilot. Obviously, this is a decade earlier in her career, and she's still at one mixed squadron, rather than a squadron each of Cheetahs and Sabres.Aitutaki Academy having a system of judicial dueling is also canon, and noted as an exception to most of the other FWL academies. It's essentially equivalent to the Clans' Circle of Equals, with command rights being potentially up for grabs. It figured that they might do some shows for VIPs. They're also noted as a particular hotbed of anti-Marik sentiment, and currently only take Regulan cadets.The discussions of what's happening in Anton's Rebellion are as close as I can piece together from Historical: Brush Wars, offset a bit by transmission times. I don't think I've had anyone other than Gideon reference future events, but my bad if I did.
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