WP3025 Chpt 32

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==Chapter 32 - Winged Praxis (Battletech 3015 CYOA)==
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===Signs of an attempt at sabotage===
Unknown Jumpship, Deep Space
Unnamed T8 Brown Dwarf - Orbit
Unnamed Star System, Magistracy of Canopus
27th May, 3015
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It was another day before Stephanie felt comfortable running up the reactor on the Star Lord. Given the surprise with the Alamo, and what had happened to the first team to search the ship, I was okay with that. I didn't want the irradiation systems kicking on while I or anyone I cared about was in range. Luckily, the experts were able to figure out how the Blackhearts had rigged the ship to give intruders a lethal dose and disable it.
 
Rigged was probably the wrong word though. It was a security system built into the design of engineering and life support, one that had been installed when the ship was built and it wasn't the only one. The JumpShip could become a deathtrap in a variety of exciting ways, or could be set to repel boarders with varying degrees of lethality. Terran Hegemony paranoia, no doubt.
 
As the ship came alive around us, we were pleased to find a manual floating about with easy-to-parse instructions for how to interface with the ship's computers, along with passwords. Which was more than a bit odd, but very helpful. Eventually we found the controls to the security systems, including those that were protecting the droppers.
 
I rubbed my hands together as I floated on the bridge, unable to resist the allure of what my father had left to me. All thoughts of Comstar and WMDs were far from my mind as I thought about the materiel that was almost in reach.
 
"You do realize that we still need to clear each of those as well," said Stephanie.
Reality came crashing back down, an altogether unfair thing to do in freefall. "You are a spoilsport, Mrs. Rose, you know that?"
 
"A live one." she pointed out.
 
"Fair point," I replied. "How long do you expect it to take?"
 
"I want at least a full day for the first one, but I'll be honest, I don't expect the same kind of security on the Dropships."
 
I raised an eyebrow. "Why?"
 
"Well, those are combat ships, right? I'll bet these security systems would be a huge liability if they took fire."
 
I nodded. "Makes sense. So what? More Alamos wired to blow?"
 
"Maybe." She pressed her lips together and clucked her tongue. "I've been thinking about that."
"Oh?"
 
"I suspect that wasn't the Blackhearts who set that one up.", Stephanie said
 
I frowned. "Why not?"
 
"Too crude," she said. "Even the improvised stuff we cleared was better crafted. I think someone else visited since the Blackhearts."
 
"Other than father," I said. "Why do you think that?"
"Well, there's apparently an HPG missing."
 
"A what?" I asked, thoughts of Comstar hit squads rearing their ugly heads.
"Apparently there was an HPG mounted on this ship," she said. "At least according to the computer, and the empty room we found marked 'HPG compartment'." She shook her head. "I never would have thought an HPG could be that small, you know? Companion, the Star League could work wonders when they weren't focused on grinding the boot in."
 
"Their thirst for more effective boots drove them to new heights." I mumbled. "Right. So, mystery extra group that snatched a tiny HPG." I thought of a ROM squad being carried along by the Explorer Corps, retrieving critical HPG tech and perhaps leaving surprises behind. A tracker perhaps, or maybe a hair-trigger nuke?
 
"Looks that way," she said, shaking the notebook at me. "They might have been the ones to right this, not the Blackhearts."
 
"That would make more sense," I said. "Well, take what time you need. I'm going to get back to cataloguing the inventory of the storage containers, and supervise the disposal effort."
 
"I'll call you when you can look at your toys Colonel. Do you want us to clear the Union first?"
 
"Whatever you think is best," I said as I floated out the door. "We're here until the job is done."
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===News to get excited for===
The weapon locker Stephanie had showed me wasn't the only one. Nor was it the only one with that combination of three symbols on the door. Each wedge-shaped container had two special weapon lockers, for a total of four. I had at my fingertips the power to end millions if not billions of lives. 
 
It was deeply disturbing, and I wanted most of it nowhere near my ship. Construction was ongoing on a container we could use to deorbit the lot. All except for some Alamos.
 
I wanted an answer if Comstar got frisky enough to send warships after us. I didn't think they had them active at this point, but no sense in being unprepared. Things were going wildly off the rails, anyway.
 
"Hey, Duster," said Socks over the comm. "You aren't too busy watching over the canisters of no-good-very-bad air are you?"
 
"It's absolutely riveting," I said. "Tell me you've got something better for me to do."
 
"Well," he said. "I just found some fighters."
 
I stiffened in excitement, nearly losing my toehold. "Really?"
 
"Oh yeah," he said. "I think you're going to like em."
 
"I'm listening," I said.
 
"Well, I'm not sure, but if I wasn't entirely asleep in the historical classes, I'm nose to nose with a Spad right now."
 
I raised an eyebrow. Spads were notorious for just how easy they were to work on. If I remembered correctly, they were the frame on which the first Omnifighter, the Issedone, was based off of. For a mercenary, easy maintenance was a hell of a boon. "You're in 23-Alpha, right?" I asked as I pushed off in that direction.
 
"Yep."
 
"I'm on my way."
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It was indeed a Spad we were looking at. Actually, it was a pair of them.
 
"Well, that's a good find," I said, clapping Socks on the shoulder, an awkward thing in zero g.
 
"Do I get to keep one?" He asked, grinning up at me.
 
"I'd wait till we look over everything before calling dibs," I said. "Don't want to jump the gun, or anything."
 
"Fair enough," he said. "Besides, there's something weird about these Spads. That," he pointed to an nine-centimeter lens with a bulky housing, "is not a PPC. And it looks like it's got two medium beams."
 
I blinked. I really shouldn't have been surprised, not with the former owners of this Jumpship. But it wasn't everyday that you found yourself face to face with two pristine lostech fighters. "Socks," I said. "I think these are 503s. Royal birds."
 
He didn't speak for long moments. "Well, now I really want one," he laughed.
 
"Can't blame you." I said, pulling myself over 23-Beta. "Well, if that isn't the weirdest damn Sabre I've ever seen."
 
In the next compartment, I found another wingpair of fighters, much like Socks had found the Spads. They were recognizably Sabres, with the same general planform and similar lines, but the details were different. The leading edges of the wings reminded me of the Spads I had just been looking at, and the nose was distinctly different. Both sides were smooth, missing the second mount medium beam. Though as I looked further back, I could see a pair of lenses near the wing roots, one on each side. The wing lasers were in their normal place, leaving the fighter with a battery of four forward-firing medium lasers. Finally, under the nose was an faceted array of lenses that reminded me of nothing so much at the F-35's EOTS. 
 
"Are those -27bs?" asked Socks, floating up behind me.
 
It made sense, given the -503 Spads we had just found. But I shook my head. "No, the Royal Sabre had six guns. This looks like it has four."
 
"Weird. Is it too late to ask for one of these?"
 
I smiled. "A Royal Spad isn't good enough for you?"
 
He cocked his head towards the hatchway we had just come through. "That had three guns. This," he gestured at the mystery Sabre, "has four."
 
"Probably faster, too." I said, ignoring that the Spad obviously had the bigger gun.
 
"Yup. Besides, I have stick time in a Sabre. Bet I could pick this one up faster, even if I have been driving mediums lately."
 
I nodded. "Fair enough. Lord knows I want to take one of these girls for a spin right now."
 
"You are the, Colonel," said Socks slyly. "You could order a test flight."
 
I smiled at the thought, then shook my head. "Work before play, I'm afraid."
 
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===Thoughts of what do with the spoils===
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As much as I had said that, the work was rewarding. Further explorations of the cargo containers found a pair of odd Ostscouts with arm lasers and an AMS along with two Spectors, more of the odd Sabres, a pair of Samurai that also didn't have the right number of guns, and a bunch of combat vehicles.
 
The finds had started with a pair of Royal Pumas, then progressed to a pair of Chapparal Arrow IV carriers. A full company of Prowler Explore Vehicles was the next find. And then we found the VTOLs. Two lances of Royal Nightshades, and six Vectors in three different variants.
 
Where we didn't find vehicles, we found spares, ammunition, and tools. There were emergency rations, uniforms, personal armor, personal weapons. I'd never imagined seeing so many damn Mauser 960s. There were jump packs, satchel charges, and dirty tricks toys of every damn description.
 
More valuable than perhaps any of it was the extremely comprehensive machine shop. Natan's Lyran tech had made a beeline for it when it was found and we hadn't been able to pry him out since, going so far as to rig up a sleeping bag to the wall so he could sleep there. According to him, with the right inputs, he could fabricate damn near anything he could dream up with it.
 
We also came up with mysteries. There were chambers with obviously empty racks, well-reinforced, but human-shaped. I had an idea what they once held, but no way to plausibly share my suspicions. Maybe I could draw a connection to the Bounty Hunter…
"They just cleared the Union CV," said Terri as she floated onto the bridge. "Two more of those weird Samurai and four Spad 503s. And six more of the Sabres, though they look a little different. Same weapons fit, but there's something about the details that is bugging me." She caught the back of the seat I had anchored myself to as I looked through the ship's computers. "You really found the mother of all lostech caches."
 
"Inherited," I said idly, as I thought of Helm, and how more details had stubbornly refused to surface about where the damn thing was. "But yeah, this is pretty rich." I reached up to stroke her hand.
 
"Do you know what you're going to do with it?" she asked. "I know the plan was to build a unit, but this stuff is priceless."
 
I chuckled. "Which would argue that any trade or sale I made would be a losing proposition."
 
Terri snorted. "Priceless doesn't actually mean priceless, you goof."
 
"I know." I turned to look at her. "What do you think I should do?"
 
"I really don't know," she said. "Part of the problem is that there's so much of it. If it was just one fighter or mech, you could trade up to multiples. But with there being so much of it, there's going to be incentive to just kill us to take the whole lot."
 
Not to mention Comstar wanting to keep us from selling to research programs like the NAIS., I thought. "It is a self-guarding asset," I said. "But yeah, that means using it, not putting it up for sale. Besides, I'd rather keep ownership of the means of destruction in our peoples' hands." I smiled.
 
"What?"
 
"Nothing. Just a pun." I jerked my head back to the computer. "I'm not nearly through all of this, and I've got a data dump running, but I'm seeing references towards Operation Lead Year and Operation Just Cause." I snorted at the names. "Looks like the subversion and direct action wings of the same project."
 
"What were the Blackhearts doing out here?" asked Terri.
 
"As far as I can tell?" I asked. "Looks like they were trying to destabilize things for the Terran Hegemony in the wake of the Amaris Civil War. Or maybe it was for Amaris. There's also references to something called the Imperial Project."
 
"That's a cheerful thought," said Terri. "I wonder how many other ships like this there are out there."
 
"No idea," I said. "But I'd bet the answer is more than one."
 
"No bet." She pulled herself over into my lap, floating against me. "It feels like the hole just gets deeper and deeper as we go."
 
"It does," I said, taking my hands from the keyboard and slipping my arms around Terri's waist.
 
"Speaking of," she said, leaning back into me. "I took a close look at the droppers when I came over. You realize that they aren't standard, right?"
 
"It really shouldn't surprise me," I said. "Not with what we've found so far. Probably Royal weapon upgrades."
 
She nodded. "The armor belts look a little off too. That could be wear, but…"
 
"Probably more mods. More to figure out, I suppose."
 
"There's been a lot of that this year." she said.
 
"Life keeps on coming," I replied. Until it doesn't, said a nasty little voice in my head. I tightened my grip on Terri fractionally.
 
"It does." She placed a hand on mine. "How much longer were you planning to look through this?"
 
I looked at the screen, then at her. "What is this plan you speak of? I've never heard of such a thing."
 
"Overrated," she said, grabbing a handy strap and pulling us both out of the chair. "Come on. Let's go sleep. I guarantee you'll make better progress after you get some sleep."
 
I kissed her. "No fair making sense." As we drifted away, I turned the screen off with a tap of my toe, and we floated down the corridor towards the airlock bridge back to Queen Anne.
 
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===Pleasant Wakeup Call===
Dropship Queen Anne, Deep Space
Unnamed T8 Brown Dwarf - Orbit
Unnamed Star System, Magistracy of Canopus
28th May, 3015
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"Wakey wakey, hubby."
 
I cracked my bleary eyes to see Diane floating right in front of my face. She smiled as Terri grumbled and burrowed herself deeper into my shoulder and the sleeping bag.
 
"What went wrong while I was asleep? Landynski mutiny, mystery pirate group jump-in, double-secret-undercover-boobytrap get set off?" I asked.
 
"Well, other than you not making room in that bag for me…" she said.
 
I extended my unoccupied side's arm in mute invitation. 
 
She accepted graciously, making me the meat in a pilot sandwich, then went on. "…nothing."
 
"Nothing?" I asked incredulously. "I must still be dreaming."
 
She pinched me, eliciting a yelp. "Nothing went wrong, anyway. We've still been getting minor injuries from the zero-g frolics of your marines, but that was expected. I thought you'd like to know that all of the droppers were cleared and powered."
 
I blinked. "Do we have a preliminary inventory?"
 
She nodded. "Do you want to hear it now, or do you want to see if we can't wake up your blonde limpet?"
 
I smiled. "That sounds like fun."
 
"My thoughts exactly," she said, then covered my mouth with hers.
 
The cabin was significantly less cramped in zero-G.
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===Taking stock what they got===
Unknown Jumpship, Deep Space
Unnamed T8 Brown Dwarf - Orbit
Unnamed Star System, Magistracy of Canopus
28th May, 3015
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Back over on the Star Lord, the grav deck had been spun up while I slept, allowing us to eat breakfast in a full simulated G. It was much preferable to eating in freefall, even if the liquids poured a little oddly at 4 RPM.
 
"You're kidding!" I said, nearly spitting out my coffee. I picked up the noteputer. "Two lances of Alacorns?"
 
"The manuals call them Mark VIs," said Natan. "Someone scribbled in a note about Pharoh beer being an essential tool for track tensioning."
 
"Twenty-four gauss rifles," I mumbled to myself, looking over the vehicle list. "Twenty-eight," I corrected myself as I found the lance of Royal Demons. "Four Pollux ADA, Four Padilla, two more Chapparals…"
"Don't forget the towed tubes," said Vixen. "Someone was a real believer in artillery. Six Long Toms, and a dozen more Snipers."
 
"So, nine Long Toms, sixteen Snipers artillery pieces, and eight Arrow IV launchers," I summed up. "You could level a fortress with that lot."
 
Terri chuckled. "Or deny a lot of airspace with flak rounds."
 
I nodded. "Yeah, that too. We're going to need an artillery training program."
 
Terri wrinkled her nose. "Ugh. You realize that's probably going to have to be one of us who does it. It's not a common MOS."
 
"We'll talk with Cliffhanger when we get back," I said, reflecting on the short course on artillery gunnery we had gone through at LMS. "We might know something, but we're hardly experts." LMS's artillery course had been more focused on helping us understand how to coordinate our strikes with other fires, and how to operate as an airborne FAC.
 
"Something is better than nothing," pointed out Vixen.
 
"Eh, mas o menos," I said. "We might end up training bad habits into beginners. We're really not cannon-cockers." I looked back at the noteputer. "Ten more Vectors, two lances of Royal Lightnings, and a lance of fusion powered Kangas?"
 
"Looks like they dropped the SRM 4 and MG to upgrade to an Ultra 5 and a small pulse laser," said Natan. "Might be thicker skinned too."
 
"I imagine Ikshita will enjoy playing around with that selection of blowers," I said, picking up my breakfast burrito and taking a bite.
 
"I think your man Jai is going to have even more fun with the jump trooper kit we found." said Natan. "Not only is it the good stuff the SLDF used, we found these weird armored suits with integrated jetpacks."
"How many?" I asked, having narrowly dodged choking on the burrito.
 
"Looks like enough for three platoons, plus spares," said Natan. "Pretty sure there used to be more. It looks like those empty racks we found in the cargo container were for holding them."
 
"Next one of you is going to tell me we have a company of King Crabs sitting pretty in one of those Fortresses," I said.
 
"No," said Vixen. "The 'mechs top out at sixty-five tons. And there's only four of them."
 
"Don't tell me they're Exterminators." I asked.
 
"If you want me to lie to you…" said my wife.
 
Terri, who had picked up the noteputer, burst out into wild cackles.
 
We all stared at her. "What's so funny, Terri?" I asked.
 
She brought the laughter under control, though the occasional giggle slipped out. "Oh, nothing," she said. "Just thinking about what got us into this mess."
 
I cast my mind back to the bet with Liszt. "Right," I said. "And what does that have to do with your mirth?"
 
"Well," she said, turning the screen to face me. "You don't have a company of assault mechs…but you do have a company of LAMs."
 
I blinked at the words on the screen. Eight Stingers, three Phoenix Hawks, and something unidentified that I had a sneaking suspicion owed it's design legacy to Amaris. "Oh," I said, understanding her mirth. I had risked quite a lot to catch the attention of the Marik Guard for a chance at piloting a LAM. Now… "Where the hell am I going to find pilots for them all?"
 
Natan laughed. "I'm sure there are plenty of people from back home crazy enough to hop at the chance."
 
"Fair," I said. "More training to do, I suppose." I looked over the rest of the list. "A lance of Kintaros, two lances of Griffins, each a different type, six more Spectors and two more of those weird Ostscouts." I grunted. "Oddly light force in the mechs and fighters as opposed to the tanks."
 
"Packed to the gills with lostech, though." said Vixen.
 
I nodded. "Well, yes. I suppose the idea was to keep the maneuver elements fast while using the treads and arty as a hammer."
 
Terri nodded. "It's a workable tactical concept. It's going to be a pain training people on all the lostech, though."
 
"At least we have the manuals," said Natan. "And spares."
 
"Those will run out." pointed out Diane. 
 
"Eventually," conceded Natan. "but Wilhelm thinks he might be able to fabricate new ones at a low rate with that machine shop in the cargo containers."
 
"That's," I searched for a world, "valuable."
 
"And that's an understatement." said Terri.
 
"Just a bit." said Diane.
 
I nodded. "We need to keep that capability under wraps. Nat, do you think your Lyran friend would get tetchy if I asked him to keep himself in the machine shop most of the time?"
 
Natan laughed. "Gid, I think he'd get annoyed if you tried to pull him out."
 
"Small favors. Well, let's get things done. We do need to head back eventually."
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===Taking Flight in a rare bird===
Dropship Raoul Wallenberg, Deep Space
Unnamed T8 Brown Dwarf Orbit
Magistracy of Canopus
31st May 3015
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I floated in front of my new 'mech. In the end, there had really only been one choice. While one of the Samurai was painted up as a double-nuts bird and reserved for my use, and I could technically commandeer any of the units we had found, acting as the commander of a combined arms unit meant sitting one's tuchus in a mech, more often than not.
 
Thankfully, the Blackheart commander had apparently prized mobility and the ability to redeploy to address problems. I recognized the mech as being obviously derived from the Screamer, Amaris's attempt to produce the last word in LAM technology. But where the Screamer was blocky, this LAM, which some of the documentation referred to as a Shrike, was contoured, reminding me of nothing so much as a VF-19 Excalibur.
 
"Harmony Gold is probably spinning in their graves." I murmured to myself, reflecting on just how much the Phoenix Hawks we had found looked like Alpha/Shadow fighters.
 
In another twist of irony, the LAMs all required the use of advanced neurohelmets to function. Where the Liszt heirloom once seemed so valuable, now I was swimming in the damn things, unissued and still in the wrapping. Even more amazingly, we'd found a diagnostic bench and tools to maintain the finicky things. That had got both Terri and I breaking down into peals of disbelieving laughter. A LAM, a helmet. Both seemed so precious and out of reach once. Now I had more than I knew what to do with.
 
Catching a maneuvering line, I slung myself over to the cockpit of the air mech mode LAM, opening it and settling into the snug seat. The Shrike may have had advanced combat computers, but it didn't have the room of a classic command mech. Still, I had come up in a Sabre. This was more than tolerable. Everything was at my fingertips, even if there was little in the way of screen space.
 
Taking a breath, I settled the SLDF neurohelmet over my head, and connected the leads. Everything had been set. I just needed to do this like normal.
 
My finger hesitated over the scramble switch for a moment, then mashed it flat.
 
<{"Security Check,"}> said Betty, <{"Neural Mapping Shows Variance Within Acceptable Deviation. Pursuit."}>
I took a deep breath. "Tzedek, tzedek tirdof." I recited.
<{"Code Accepted. Reactor Online, Sensors Online, Weapons Online, All Other Functioning Systems, Nominal. Welcome Colonel. Ready for operations."}>
 
I closed my eyes, feeling the helmet feed me awareness, letting me look through the mech's eyes, feel systems status, and adjust balance just so. At a thought, the canopy came down, sealing me away from the universe. I could feel my fingers brushing over the cockpit controls, helmet feeding me knowledge of what controlled the functions I might want, while aware that my thoughts would be enough in most cases.
 
A switch, a twist of will, and I was suddenly standing upright, wings flexing on my shoulders. I opened my eyes to see the view from mech mode, overlaid with what I needed to know.
 
"Yes," I said. "I suppose we are."
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*;Notes from the Author : In a bit of serendipity, Gideon gets his shinies just as the latest Kickstarter drops. It's a less action-packed chapter, but you finally have the roster, and can reconstruct the rolls. (If you are, eight medium vehicles were downgraded to lights.) I'll be putting out specs on the fighters and mechs soon, along with a little write-up on the Imperial Project and some new quirks and tech.
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