Triumph laced Lance's calls as he finally finished the sim pod movement drills. A small achievement, to be sure, but one that set him on his way towards the controls of a real 'Mech. From behind, he heard the slow, almost taunting rhythm of Cassandra's clapping.
"Congrats, Trephore. You can make a 'Mech run instead of walk." She stood next to the pod. "Now let's see if you can shoot."
She brought up the situation select, and pulled out a simple one-on-one that should favor Lance. He was in his Hunchback, and set against a 'Mech tagged as a Panther. The tactical readout showed it as having a PPC similar to Cassandra's Vindicator, and some missiles. Lance easily out gunned it with just his main gun, let alone his supporting array of lasers. This should be easy.
"You're mine." He charged forth, firing his main gun. The sway of his 'Mech threw off his aim, and the shell flew clean over his target's head. The Panther took a different approach, making lateral movements while firing on Lance's Hunchback. The blue bolt slammed into Lance's shoulder, burning dangerously close to his ammo stores.
Green beams sprang forth from the Hunchback's arms, carving furrows across his opponent's chest, but dealt no real damage. A flurry of missiles sprang forth from the Panther, leaving pockmarks in Lance's armor. He adjusted his aim to try and compensate for the combined movement difference between him and the Panther. He overcompensated, and when he fired his main gun again, he missed. But only narrowly this time.
The Panther chanced its course, and was moving straight towards the Hunchback. Lance smirked, and did the same. He fired his main cannon again, but his aim was off. The Panther's left arm disappeared. That was the wrong arm. The Panther didn't fire back yet, but instead, it activated its jump jets, and soared right over Lance's head. It fired its PPC at Lance midair. The shot carved into Lance's rear armor, right into the ammo housing.
A thunderous roar filled the sim-pod, and the neural feedback nearly knocked Lance unconscious. Any attempt to scream, or even breathe was stolen from his throat, and all he could do was writhe in his seat for those brief seconds. When he finally opened his eyes, he looked at the display.
"MISSION: FAILED" it said. "CAUSE OF DESTRUCTION: AMMO EXPLOSION"
Behind him, he could hear Cassandra laughing. "Okay, I'm gonna give you the chance to point out what went wrong there..."
Lance held his head in his hands, that familiar ache filling the front of his mind. He looked at the screen, then back at Cassandra. "Best guess? Ammo explosion."
"That's part of it." said Cassandra. "First off, your aim is shit. Second, you failed to protect your ammo can. And lastly, you advanced too close to something that can easily outmaneuver you with its jump-jets. All of that came together and got you're 'Mech destroyed."
"Okay..." said Lance. "How do I avoid that? My weapons are close ranged."
"First step, we improve your aim. Second, you learn to use your weapons at distance. That'll help keep them in front of you where your armor's thickest, and where your ammo cans are protected."
"Understood." Lance nodded.
"Dismissed. And take some... Well, you know the drill by now."
Lance acknowledged, and left the sim pod and cargo bay, making his way to his quarters. But first, he'd walk through the MechBays. Michael was there, leaning against the catwalk railing. Lance stopped, and stood by Michael, looking upon his Hunchback. They'd replaced the arm, and were prepping the main cannon housing for its replacement. All this just added more debt to Lance's burden, but would put him in the position where he could repay it, eventually. "She's gonna be one hell of a sight when she's finished." he said.
Michael chuckled in reply. "Hell yeah. That is, assuming you ever get her finished. Wait. Her? We're not humanizing that thing, are we?"
"I don't see why not. Honestly, I don't see a world where we couldn't."
"What next, you name the thing?"
"Maybe. Some day."
"What'll ya name her?"
"Dunno. I guess she'll have to earn her name, first."
"We found her blown to shit in the middle of the woods. Whatever happened before then? I'd think she's earned her name, Lance."
"You know what I mean. A name that suits us. Not just her. A name that means something. Something important."
"So, Scraps isn't an option, then?" Michael chuckled.
Lance shook his head. "It's an option, but a terrible one."
"I dunno. I'd drive a Hunch named Scraps."
"Okay, if I'd gotten her by any other means, then maybe. But she's made all... this..." Lance gestures to the MechBay. "Our employment, and my survival possible. She deserves a prettier name than "Scraps" I think."
Michael smiled, turning his gaze back to the unnamed Hunchback. Silence fell between the two. Michael was the first to leave, a firm pat on Lance's shoulder in place of a "Goodbye". Lance lingered a little longer.
"I'll get ya back in the fight soon, girl... Just gotta show ya some love."
Lance looked out the viewport as the dropship made its approach. The world of Demeter was definitely bluer than Kathil. Why, it looked as if almost half the world was covered in water. When they landed, Lance found both the shipyard and the MechBays to be vastly different from what he's used to. The shipyard alone was easily the size of a small city, ships of all varieties flying in and out, trucks the size of BattleMechs carrying supplies, materials, and BattleMechs themselves to and from the MechBays. All five of the Cavaliers' 'Mechs were carried out of the dropship this way. A large bus did the same for Lance and the other MechTechs. A massive square structure only slightly smaller than the shipyards. The complex was immense, far more so than the depot he used to work. He saw entire 'Mechs transported on massive flatbeds, cranes carrying them from MechBay, to MechBay. The same trucks carrying materials and supplies along a dedicated road through the titanic complex.
The bus stopped on an elevator that lifted it up to a catwalk the size of a city street. Everyone stepped off the bus as was greeted by a man wearing a uniform presumably issued by this incredible facility. "Welcome to the Hammer and Anvil Shipyard and 'MechBay. You work under the Ward's Cavaliers Mercenary Company?"
"Aye," said that familiar Scotsman's voice. "Name's Haiden. I'm their Chief MechTech." He extends a hand to the man. The man gripped brief, but firm.
"Thank you, Haiden. Call me Alex. I'll be your guide today."
"Most of us have been here before, lad. Just tell me where which hab-unit we'll be stayin' in."
"Very well sir." Alex pulls up the information on his data pad. "It says you'll be staying in unit D-16-B, near the northwest corner. Your roster says you've a couple new hires since your last visit. With your permission I could give them to tour instead."
Haiden considered this. 'If they're with Alex, it gives me more time to set up my own quarters instead of spending the next hour explaining this place to 'em.'
"Slate! Trephore!" Haiden called. "You two will accompany this man while he gives you the tour. When you're done, he'll bring you the hab-unit. Understood?"
The boys nodded, and looked toward Alex, who led them across the catwalk, to the railing. Lance could see the Cavaliers' 'Mechs being positioned, including his Hunchback. "Thing of beauty, isn't it?" asked Alex. "This facility's been in use since before the collapse of the Star Leage, and is one of the largest in Davion space." Alex began his tour, and gestured for the boys to follow.
The tour took them all around the busy catwalk, overlooking the MechBays. Easily six stories to the catwalk, and three more to the ceiling of the entire complex, and several kilometers long. Alex began his lecture. "The entire facility is divided into two levels. The MechBays make up the ground level while the upper level is reserved for housing and temporary living quarters. The MechBays themselves only make up about two thirds of the total ground space, while northern third is made up of a massive storage warehouse, where we keep materials, supplies, and spare parts. Everything you'll need to repair your 'Mechs."
"Unfortunately, no. No one has lostech anymore." Alex was just as disappointed in this as the boys. "If you need something from the warehouse, you can make purchases through one of the manifest kiosks, or through the data pad I'll hand to your lead technician."
They finally rounded one corner, and paused at what was likely the best possible view of the organized chaos below, perfected by how close to the catwalk the hoist carried a BattleMech. Lance looked upon it all. Really looked at it. The hoist carried it far over the heads of the workers, drivers, MechTechs, and drivers below, and down the length of the facility. Below, they saw the road that makes timely travel through this facility possible. Everything from forklifts to busses, to large trucks carrying things to and fro.
Alex spoke once more, "Ours is the single largest facility in Demeter, and among the largest in Davion space as a whole. One of the few that incorporates living spaces and free housing for both its own workers, and those working for our clients. We encourage mercenary outfits to use their own technicians whenever they can, as not only does it save said outfits on C-bills, but frees up our own workforce for our AFFS clients. All you're really paying for is the space, time, and the materials."
"What happens of one of these mercenary MechTechs gets hurt using your facility?" asked Michael, who saw the sheer scale a little differently than Lance.
"Part of the contract is that we as a company are not responsible for damages to your 'Mechs or injuries to your technicians while using this site. Our safety protocols make way for your own, allowing your procedures to remain unchanged while working in this new space. Therefore, any harm or damages caused on this site are as a result of your own negligence. But, if this facility is damaged as a result of your own negligence, we will require substantial compensation before you can use our facility again. This includes unnecessary damage to equipment, systems, and the structure itself."
"Clever." says Lance. He's here to fix 'Mechs, not listen to legal jargon. "Is there anything else we should know about this facility, or are you gonna recite BattleMech design philosophy now?"
Alex chuckled. "You seem well enough acquainted with Mech Bays." He turns to cross the catwalk, and march along the wall. "The upper floor is the habitat section, able to house and supply a small town."
"So, I take it clients tend to stay for a while?" asked Lance. He looked up the wall, noting how it was lined with shuddered windows, and balconies. Most of which empty.
"Our facility is far enough from any cities or towns that it becomes impractical for our clientele to find lodgings elsewhere. So, we supply all you need to stay long enough to repair and resupply your BattleMechs. All of which paid for as part of the bill for using the facility itself."
Lance's responding question came swift, but blunt. "Why set up shop so far from an actual city?"
"Simple," answered Alex. "To prevent as many civilian casualties as possible in the event of an attack. Sure, BattleMechs are expensive, and even more so are the facilities that maintain them. But civilian life is precious, and should not be put at unnecessary risk."
"What happens when this place is under attack? Be it by the Capellans or by a paid mercenary company?" asked Michael.
Alex laughed when Michael mentioned mercenaries as potential attackers. "Mercenaries make up two thirds of our clientele. There isn't a paycheck in the entire Inner Sphere fat enough to persuade them to try and take this place. And if the Capellan Confederation were to attack, and succeed in destroying this facility, they'd lose the loyalty and service of several of these companies, as we are their primary source of repair and resupply. But in the unlikely event, we are protected by a company of fully armed, armored, and maintained BattleMechs, privately owned by our own MechWarriors. Pair that with the planetary defense force that would spring to action, and any mercenaries bold enough to stand with us... It would be a poor use of resources by the opposition. Not that they've let that stop them before. But that's why we have these measures here."
"When you mention the local PDF, what kind of numbers are you talking? A company or two, a brigade, a whole regiment?" Michael's tone shifts towards awe.
"That information is not for civilian ears or minds."answers Alex, as flat as ever. "Classified for the sake of planetary security. By making known what we have protecting this place, we essentially tell our enemies how much firepower to bring to beat us. We'd keep our own company of 'Mechs secret, but we're legally required to register our BattleMechs with the PDF, and once we do, that much becomes public information."
The tour of the facility led them around the massive catwalk, and back to the hab-unit they'd started by. "Gentlemen, I hope you enjoyed the tour, and I hope you find our services and facilities useful. Alas, here we must part ways. You should get some rest. I'm sure your lead technician will have quite the workload for you."
Much of the Hunchback's cannon housing had been removed, and the area around it has been cleared. Lance stood atop the cockpit, guiding a crane to bring the new primary cannon into place. A Tomodzuru AC/20, designed to fire massive two hundred-millimeter shells capable of stripping away entire tons of armor at a time. The perfect weapon for a 'Mech like the Hunchback. Michael stood on a nearby catwalk, observing the moment.
"Don't screw this up, Lance!" he called, dangerously close to a taunt. "Or else 'Scraps' really will be her name."
Lance gave Michael the finger, but otherwise focused on the autocannon. The cannon itself was massive, easily the size of a large van at least. 'So close' Lance thought to himself. 'I'll have you back in the fight soon, girl. Just another week here, and you're mine. God, what a month it's been.'
"Hey," called Michael, again. "Why haven't we finished with the Commander's Thunderbolt yet?"
"Because," Lance spoke slow, focusing more on guiding the autocannon than his answer. "The Commander had to commission the owners of this fine establishment to fabricate a new arm. They didn't have spares on hand like they did for Necessity here."
"I see what you did there, asshole." said Michael. Even he was unimpressed by Lance's "on hand" pun. "Wait. Necessity? Who the hell's Necessity? Is she cute?"
"She's about fifty tons, a little worse for wear, but on the road to recovery, and has a few decades worth of pent-up attitude that I can't wait to see."
It finally donned on Michael. "So that's her name? Why Necessity?"
"You really think we could have done any of the shit we have without her? She's the reason I pushed so hard to study BattleMech technology. She's the reason I even considered mercenary life. She's the only thing that got me on board with Ward's Cavaliers. She's the only reason I'm standing here today. She's the only reason I can afford Mom's medical care back home, and pretty soon, she'll be the only thing that'll help me pay off all that debt."
"Necessity." Michael tasted the truth of the word, how sweet it was. It was rare for these boys to taste sweetness with truth, and yet they do now. "Told you we'd figure it out."
"We always do." Lance finished the mantra right as the autocannon settled into place. "All that's left is to attach the gun, and rebuild her shoulder."
"Hopefully," Michael chimed in. "They'll be done with the Commander's arm by then, and we can get out of here."
"What's the rush?" asked Lance. "This place is amazing! Biggest freaking 'Mech Bay I've ever seen!"
"It's too... Big."
"If you have a problem with big things, why'd you become a 'MechTech?"
"Not big things." Michael said, turning his gaze inward at the sheer scale of the facility, then right back to Lance. "Big spaces... Sure, anyone feels small when looking at a BattleMech. But at least when I look at one of those, and can work on one, I'm in control. Big spaces? They just make me feel small."
"What about the old depot, back home?" Lance smirked, halfway to calling bullshit. "That was a pretty big space."
"When you've spent years working there, you get used to it. It would take years more to get used to this place. Seriously. I look at the other side of the building, and it's like I'm looking at a distant cliffside. Then I look up, and find a low-hanging sky made of steel."
Lance chuckled. "Poetic, aren't we today? Next, you'll be ranting to yourself, 'Her lips were red as a cherry, and twice as sweet.'"
"Fuck. You." Michael shook his head.
Jacob stood atop an elevated working platform, overseeing the final maintenance of his Trebuchet. Half his focus was on the Trebuchet, the other half on the two boys. He couldn't clearly hear them from where he stood, but he observed how they worked. The synergy alone was unlike anything he'd seen before. Sure, they'd distract themselves half the time, but when they focused, they were able to work at triple the average pace.
His focus on the boys drowned out the warning shouts from below, only to register in time for him to turn around, and find himself within kissing distance with an ammo crate, carried by a crane. The crate couldn't stop in time, and pushed him off the platform. Fifteen feet, he fell screaming, smashing his shoulder against the base of the elevated platform only to fall another six feet onto the steel floor, chest-first. Consciousness left him on impact. Blood filled his bomber's jacket, and soaked onto the weathered metal beneath him. Immediately, he was surrounded by MechTechs, attendants, and supervisors. Several of which on their communicators calling for medical support.
Michael looked over, and saw the commotion, but not Jacob. "The hell's going on over there?" he asked.
Lance looked too. Earlier, he'd noticed Jacob standing atop the EWP, but saw the platform was now empty. It clicked. "Holy shit, I think Jacob fell!"
"Fuck, that's a fall." Michael descended a nearby ladder, and dashed over to the scene. Lance was unable to abandon his post.
When Michael arrived on scene, he noticed one man trying to roll Jacob over. "Don't touch him!" he shouted. "He might have broken vertebrae!" The man hesitated to back off, until Michael pulled him away. "Where the hell are the medics?!"
A feminine voice from behind the crowd answered, saying, "The guy I was talking to said ten minutes."
Michael noticed how rapidly the pool of blood was growing. "Shit, he might not have that long..." He looked around for a solution. All he saw was a bar of 'Mech frame material, and some nylon straps. He pointed at the objects, and commanded, "Give me that!"
One young Tech handed him the things. Michael braced the metal bar against Jacob's back, and tied it to him at both ends, forcing his back to stay straight. "Now we can roll him over."
Once Jacob was on his back, the extent of his injuries was revealed. There was a bulge under his jacked about where his lowest right rib would be.
'That's not good.' Michael thought. Upon unzipping Jacob's jacket, he saw two of his lowest ribs had been snapped, and had broken out through his skin. The wound wept like a thousand widows, and their sons, covering Michael's hands.
"Ten minutes definitely isn't soon enough." He needed to stop the bleeding, or at the very least slow it so Jacob doesn't bleed out before the medics arrive. His only obvious and immediate option was to doff his jumpsuit, and use that as a tourniquet around Jacob's torso. When Michael tightened it, the jolt of agony pulled Jacob's eyes wide open. The MechWarrior tried to arch forward at Michael's half-naked form, but between the metal holding his back straight, and the fire that filled his torso, he was chained to the ground.
"How bad is it?" Jacob asked, closing his eyes and struggling to swallow the pain.
"You don't want to know." answered Michael.
'I am going to die here, aren't I?'
"Just keep your breathing slow, and your eyes open. I've slowed the bleeding enough that you'll probably make it long enough for the medics to arrive."
"How long before they arrive?"
"Not long. Just hold yourself together until they do."
Keeping his breath slow was easy, as each breath was its own battle. With each inhale, he winced, with each exhale, he shuddered. His vision blurred, both from blood loss, and from the fury that engulfed his body from the chest down to his hips.
"They'd better hurry the fuck up. I didn't leave house Stiener just to die bleeding in a 'Mech Bay."
Sirens sounded in the distance, and drew very close, very fast. Jacob was barely holding onto consciousness.
"Hang on, big guy." Michael tapped the side of Jacob's face, a feeble attempt to keep him awake. Unsuccessful. When he awoke, his vision was this white blob, distant, muffled voices came from his left. He only recognized one as the Commander's. "I need him to be back out there as soon as possible. How long's his recovery?"
"Several months, sir." said the other man. "Six broken ribs, two of which broke through his skin and pierced his lung. Half the rest are either cracked or bruised. His right shoulder was ruined; it's nothing short of a miracle his spine is still intact. The internal bleeding alone nearly killed him."
"You've already told me about his injuries, asshole." the Commander's tone grew aggressive. "I've yet to hear an actual recovery time."
"Unless he's superhuman, at least six months." the doctor kept his calm. "My guess? Closer to a year. Normally, you don't take a fall like that one and just walk it off."
"See to it he's up and moving as soon as possible, understood?"
The doctor simply nodded, "I'll let you talk with your friend for a minute." and left.
Jacob's vision finally cleared in time to see the Commander sit next to him. Jacob laid his head back with a groan. "Sorry, boss. Never saw the crate coming."
"You remember the fall?" the commander sounded surprised.
"I remember standing on the platform, the crate, then bleeding on the ground. Not hard to piece together what happened between the two, sir."
A pause fell between the two, broken only when Jacob asked, "How bad?"
The Commander gave Jacob the extent of his injuries, and continued with, "You won't be returning to action for the next year. At least."
"Then who's your fourth lance mate?"
The commander just looked at Jacob, letting him piece together the answer. He shook his head. "He's just a kid. To say he's untrained would be an understatement, sir. I've watched his sim pod footage. You'd be better off taking lower-paying, easier jobs until I've recovered."
"We both know why that's not an option, MechWarrior. We need every C-bill we can get. At-cost for us doesn't mean what it does for other companies."
"At-cost gets a lot higher still if you've got a trainee behind the controls." Jacob snapped. "Commander, if not for him, than for me, I ask not as a MechWarrior, not as your subordinate, but as your friend, don't make Lance fight. Not yet. Preferably, not ever."
The Commander pinched the bridge of his nose. "I wish it were that simple, Jacob. I know how you feel about kids fighting for C-bills."
"He's a good kid. And that's exactly the problem. This line of work isn't kind to good people. I should know."
"We both should. I've still got my rules."
"No cities, no farms, no kids."
"And no known fathers."
Jacob nodded. "I trust you sir. Just... Give the kid some time?"
The Commander sighed. "I'll see what I can do, Jacob. But this is my company. And I need to keep it afloat. I'm already behind on rent, and this repair bill isn't helping. Just praying I can catch a break before ComStar starts crawling up my ass."
"They're too subtle for that, Commander. They'll probably have someone else crawl up your ass on their behalf."
"I wish my father never struck that deal with those bastards." the Commander's gaze grew distant, his tone laced with disdain.
"If you don't mind my asking, sir, why did he strike that deal in the first place?"
"He had a much larger company back then. There were ten of us before. But then one bad mission ruined it all. It's been a struggle to keep ourselves afloat ever since. Enough talking, Jacob. You need some real rest. The surgery was a bit... invasive. Physical therapy is going to be unkind."
"Lovely." Jacob forced a chuckle, and instantly regretted it as his chest screamed at him. He just closed his eyes, and tried to make himself comfortable. "Sorry I had to get myself fucked up like this."
"It's just as much that crane operator's fault as it is yours, Jacob."
"Yeah, but it costs us C-bills."
"Just let me handle the bills, MechWarrior. You focus on getting through the year and getting back behind the controls."
