Chapter 10
Dropship Implacable, Bound in-system from the Zenith Point, Sudeten System
Tamar Domains, Tamar Pact, Lyran Commonwealth
April 27, 3010
The last half of the trip to Sudeten had been like living in an anteroom of hell.
It hadn't been too bad at first. The routine was easy enough to adopt: no food for at least twelve hours before a jump, maximum safe dose of Dralaxine half an hour prior, and an IV bag with antiemetics and enough additions to keep me from getting metabolic alkalosis after. Way too good to be true.
It was the first time I'd had to deal with such a long series of Jumps, especially in such rapid succession, and my TDS flared up as a result. Over the course of the trip, I'd gone from being incapacitated for less than a day to more than two after each jump. I lost seven pounds, and if the Inner Sphere hadn't held on to improved toothpastes despite the loss of technology, I'd probably be dealing with serious demineralization in my teeth from the amount of puking I'd done.
As it was, we'd had to pick up extra IV bags enroute due to the way I was going through them to stay hydrated.
Consequently, we were more than halfway to Sudeten from the Zenith jump point before I was conscious enough to be appraised of the local news.
"You're sure about this?" I asked as soon as I was done reading the summary of two days worth of chatter.
"It's what they're reporting," Captain Chapman replied, "It's a damn good thing we weren't planning on selling anything to THI."
"You're not wrong," I agreed. All but three members of THI's upper management on Sudeten had been arrested with charges ranging from gross embezzlement at the low end to treason on the high end. Because in the process of investigating the corruption in Trellshire Heavy Industries, Lyran intelligence had also rolled up a Combine spy ring who'd been slipping one of the sales Executives money under the table to sell to 'mercenaries' that were nothing more than a Combine front. And it wasn't just on Sudeten. THI was speculated to be in danger of losing their government licensure. If that happened, they wouldn't be allowed to sell to anyone except for fulfilling government contracts.
On the one hand, it gave me the heebie-jeebies. I was a limited government guy. On the other hand, I couldn't say it was entirely unwarranted given that high-level executives had been involved in literal treason.
The arrests had happened a couple of days before our jump in-system and were still about the only thing being covered by the planetary news broadcasts. "And Olivetti is still clean? No involvement?"
That was my big concern. It would be just my luck to have come all this way to find that I've got a cargo that no one wants to buy.
"None, seems like their reputation isn't overblown. Of course, they're pretty new. It usually takes time for corruption like that to accumulate."
A fair point, but still a positive indicator. My brain began to prepare to kick over what that might mean for The Plan, but I did my best to nip that in the bud.
Another negative about the long trip was that I'd not just had time to plan, I'd had time to brood.
There was a reason that I'd dropped Original Oratory for Extemporaneous Speaking when I'd been on my high school speech and debate team. Given sufficient time, instead of continuing to improve and refine a speech or plan I started to pick at it like a scab, double and triple thinking myself into decision paralysis.
One or two weeks was a useful period of time for me. Two months was too long. I'd had to deliberately go looking for distractions to avoid giving myself an ulcer or a stress-inflicted breakdown. Physical exercise helped, but even my generous quarters, relatively speaking, were a bit small for that.
I'd ended up grabbing the twins and Rowdy and inflicted upon them the ancient and venerable tradition of coaming jumping: running through corridors for PE, jumping through the pressure doors, and, at least at first, barking lots of shins before we got the timing right. When we had gravity to work under or could schedule time in the rotary sections of the Jumpship at least. Then I'd discovered around a thousand years of fiction I'd never read before.
We didn't have all of it by any means, but digital copies of books were low storage, low bandwidth, and cheap besides. I forced myself to read some non-fiction first, but there was enough fiction out there that even without wading through a bunch of drek I found several gems.
That had been just what the doctor ordered for both taking my mind off my upcoming meeting and temporarily forgetting my TDS in the bargain.
Now, however, with the immediacy of my plan's implementation in front of me, all of my doubts and concerns were trying to take center stage. I wasn't accustomed to playing for stakes as high as those I was currently wagering on, and for the first time in my life, I was experiencing stage fright.
Giving myself a mental shake, I refocused on what the Captain was saying.
"- some interesting hails when they realized we were an Overlord. I'm not entirely sure they believed me about carrying cargo-cargo instead of BattleMech-cargo. They boarded us out by the charging station like they expected to run into a DEST kill team," she paused to shake her head.
That was another thing I was happy enough to miss, I didn't even recall them stopping by medical, I was so out of it with Jump Sickness.
"At least they didn't damage any of the cargo," I offered.
She snorted at that.
"They sure opened up enough boxes. Good thing the contents are sealed in plastic."
The inspection was also the reason we were only 'almost halfway' to Sudeten instead of 'more than halfway' there. In other circumstances, I'd have been happy for the extra time to recover from my TDS. Now it was just extra time to tie myself in knots.
"And you made sure they heard about the Streak launchers, right? And had Rowdy brag about finding a lance of Banshees?" I asked.
At her glare in response, I held up both hands in surrender.
"Alright, just wanted to be sure," I told her apologetically. "I'll get out of your hair," I promised already preparing to retreat before I annoyed her further by being a mother hen.
"Don't worry, boss, this is pretty routine, except for the value of what we're carrying. Most anybody watching will put any high spirits down to your age," Haley assured me as I departed her office.
I decided to do my best to take her advice, but I was too aware of the reputation of the Inner Sphere's various spy agencies to be entirely reassured.
XXXXX
I'd taken the opportunity of our approach to Sudeten to grab a seat on the Implacable's bridge. Seeing a planet from space wasn't a frequent enough occurrence in my new life to have lost its luster quite yet, so I was in an excellent position to notice the sensors officer stiffen in her seat.
"Ma'am, I've got six ASFs on an interception course with us! Warbook says a Sabre, two Seydlitz, and a Centurion escorting a pair of Lucifers.
Immediately, Captain Chapman responded.
"Sound Combat Stations!" she called and an alarm started going off, "Helm, prepare to roll to bring them under fire as they close. Any indication on who they are or how they got here?"
"Ma'am, no transponders," the sensors officer responded.
I experienced a sudden puckering feeling. Lucifers, for all that their loadout wasn't suited for it at all, were utilized by the LCAF for anti-Dropship operations. With an escort of four interceptors to keep enemy interceptors and light dogfighters off of them, it was a pretty solid squadron on paper.
Against just about any other Successor State's ASFs they'd have been in trouble, but despite being an Overlord and having the notional capacity to match their numbers, we weren't carrying so much as a single bird.
My mind raced as I tried to do the mental math on what an engagement would look like. We had the advantage of sheer number of weapons, but they had numbers and closing velocity on their side. The Seydlitz would probably be the first targets, if only because they were basically made of paper, and killing them would remove an 8cm laser each from the board. The other two light ASFs both relied on 5cm lasers, and if they tried to get in range, we had Class 5 Autocannon and our own lasers to fight with.
That left the Lucifers, but we carried three LRM-20s to their two, with a half dozen PPCs and 8cm lasers compared to their combined 4 LLs. That was a pretty lopsided balance of power even if we reserved our AC-20s to deal with potential ramming attempts.
Still, we were coming up on atmospheric reentry, and that was probably the best chance they had to shoot us down. They were coming close to extreme LRM range now, and even one hole in our armor, w-
The communications officer bit out a curse, and I stiffened, not enjoying the sensation of depending on other people in a fight. Then he spoke.
"Ground control reports that they have vectored a squadron of the 2nd Lyran Regulars to escort us down to Hamarr's spaceport."
All the air went out of the compartment, though the sound of a deflating balloon was entirely mental. After a moment's pause, the Captain spoke, her voice very carefully neutral.
"Thank them for their consideration," she ordered. If she was suffering from the sudden drop in adrenaline I was experiencing, it wasn't evident.
As per my usual response to fear, a moment later I started getting mad.
"What the hell was that all about?" I demanded quietly, trying not to clench my teeth.
"Three options," Haley responded, doing a much better job at keeping ahold of her temper, "They could have been testing us. If a DEST team thought it had been made, they might have broken cover to fire on their attackers," she explained.
"Second, they might not have trusted the word of the customs officers that we were clean. It wouldn't be the first time a raid used compromised government officials to sneak into a supposedly secure system," she continued as the bridge continued to come back to life now that the crisis seemed to have fizzled.
"Lastly," she said, cracking a small smile, "well, never leave out the possibility of incompetence. Those flyboys are from a Regulars formation after all. They might not know what a transponder is, much less where the controls are."
That last was said with a touch more volume than the rest had been, and smiles and chuckles circled the compartment. It broke even my sour mood and I shook my head. Instead of making a reply, I sat back to enjoy the descent to Sudeten's capital.
XXXXX
In contrast to the excitement preceding our descent, the actual landing had been entirely routine. I was fine with that; it gave me time to just enjoy myself. Back in the 21st century, I'd have had to be a multi-millionaire to ever have a chance to get into space myself. Here and now … well I really was a millionaire, but there were millions of people a year who took trips in and out of the atmosphere across hundreds of worlds. For them it was humdrum. For me it still had a touch of magic.
Even so, all good things came to an end. I'd ventured out of the dropship in my temporary ride to deal with paperwork, only to meet a less than subtle cordon of combat vehicles hull-down around the Implacable.
Thankfully, they hadn't panicked at the sight of an Assault 'Mech, but the level of suspicion was disconcerting.
Feeling distinctly unwelcome, I'd hurried through the paperwork associated with our presence on Sudeten, had a message sent to Olivetti's offices in the capital, then made myself scarce, quite a few C-Bills lighter than when I'd walked out of the Overlord. Parking fees for a military dropper were somewhat expensive as was the security deposit.
I'd barely gotten my Banshee parked when an announcement came over the intercom.
"Major Weber, to the bridge, Major Weber, to the bridge."
I glared at an inoffensive speaker before breaking into a jog. For a moment, I wondered what this could be about before a possibility occurred to me. It would mean a truly excellent turnaround time, but Olivetti might be responding to my message. If so, that would probably be a positive indicator for the odds of making a sale.
With that happy thought in mind, I popped in to the bridge.
"Did Olivetti call already?" I asked, hopeful for a positive response. I was disappointed.
"No, but we do have a call for you from a White Glove Technologies," Captain Chapman answered.
For a second my brain stalled out switching gears and I could only blink at her dumbly. Luckily, since we were on the ground and powered down, the bridge was pretty well deserted, so only a couple crew members were in a position to see me wrong-footed like an idiot.
"Who the heck are they?" I asked, like an idiot.
"No idea who they are, never heard of them before, and no, they requested to speak with the owner and declined to specify what in particular they wanted to discuss," she answered.
I would have expected and requests for mercenaries to go through the MRB, but maybe they were looking for transport or something? Shaking off the speculation, I refocused.
"Mind if I take this in your ready room?" I asked, indicating the near-closet off of the bridge where she could go to handle paperwork while remaining accessible to the crew if they needed her.
When she waved my concern off, I went ahead and entered, plopped myself down in the seat, and picked up the handset.
"Hello, this is Alistair Weber speaking," I announced. After a heartbeat, I got my reply.
"Good day, Mister Weber, it's a pleasure to speak with you. I'm Chester Appleton from White Glove Technologies," he said with a pause.
"A good day to you as well," I said, minding my manners while I waited for him to come to his point.
"I do apologize for contacting you in this manner, but I prefer to strike while the iron is hot. I've heard a rumor that you're carrying military equipment. I'd like to make you an offer for any PPCs you might be carrying. I can offer you a rate somewhat above market price for them. I'm afraid there's a local shortage of them at the moment, and my company is under something of a time crunch in acquiring a large number of them."
I opened my mouth to tell him that I wanted to sell my cargo as one lot, but hesitated. How did he know we were carrying anything, much less military hardware?
We hadn't had any contact with the planet outside of traffic control before we landed, and customs had been taken care of out at the Zenith Recharge Station. I reached for a pen and started taking notes.
"I'm sorry, sir, but I am not at liberty to discuss any cargo we may or may not be carrying," I informed him. Thankfully, his name wasn't complicated to spell. Best case, this was a front for LIC being nosey. I wasn't sure what a worst-case would look like, but I was certain I didn't want to know. My response also seemed to surprise Mr. Appleton. It apparently wasn't the response he was expecting, because he was quiet for just a second too long.
"But you are carrying cargo, correct?" he asked sounding composed. I'd probably have even believed it if not for that long pause.
"I'm sorry, sir, I can neither confirm nor deny," I asserted, doing my best to sound conciliatory. I also had to bite the side of my cheek to keep from smiling. People had always been able to hear a smile in my voice back in the 21st, and I didn't want to give anything away.
Continuing to make notes, I recalled his comment about there being a shortage of PPCs. Why the hell would a real purchaser give that sort of information out for free? Better to just call up and offer to take all of them I was carrying, then ask for a bulk discount and let me argue him back up to standard price. That meant Mr. Appleton probably wasn't a purchaser, which made both his name and the company name he'd given me suspect. Still, he was continuing to speak even as I was scrambling for a tactic I could use.
"Perhaps a dialogue would be more easily established in person?" he inquired. I may have been imagining it, but his voice sounded the slightest bit tense.
It also sounded like an awful idea. Presumably he would name a place somewhere inside Hamarr that I couldn't just walk up to with a Lance of 'Mechs. Best case for that scenario was probably a LIC snatch and interrogate. Worst was probably my corpse turning up in a dumpster a couple days later. Nope! All my nope!
"I apologize, Mr Appleton, but I don't have a timetable yet for when I will be available," I said then a ploy occurred to me. "If you can pass along your contact information, I would be happy to contact you as soon as I am able to commit to a date and time."
Seemingly caught by surprise by something other than a noncommittal answer, 'Mr. Appleton' took a moment to formulate a response.
"Ah, yes, certainly," he said before rattling off a com number. That sounded practiced enough to be genuine rather than a payphone somewhere. Since Caller ID seemed to be Lostech, I didn't have a quick way of checking to see if it was the number he was calling from or a similar number, like another line from the same business.
"Again, I apologize for not being able to answer you questions, Sir. Hopefully that will no longer be the case when we speak next."
"Indeed, do have a good day," he responded, then hung up.
I made sure the line was dead before bursting out of the little office with enough force that two of the limited bridge crew jumped.
"Do we have anyone on shore leave?" I demanded as soon as I laid eyes on Captain Chapman.
Taken a bit aback, it took her a moment to answer.
"No, there are some scheduled to depart this evening, but none have left yet."
That was a relief, but another thought occurred to me.
"Anyone outside the spaceport's secure perimeter on business?"
"No. Just the fueling crew, but they're inside spaceport security. What was that call about?" Haley asked.
"We've walked into something here, and I don't like it at all. Somehow that caller either knew or suspected that we had a supply of PPCs onboard." I hesitated for a second and my lips drew down in a frown. "Or at least that's the pretext he was using."
Yeah, PPCs were in short supply in the Inner Sphere, but not that rare here in the Commonwealth. If anything, I would have expected to be getting calls about the Fusion Engines we were carrying. Those were wait-listed even here.
"That's awful damn quick to be getting a call. No way he could have heard about it here on the ground," Haley said, bringing my attention back to the conversation.
"He must have gotten a tip off from customs," I said. The only other thing that made sense was a spy on our end, but I knew for a fact that none of the Dropship or Jumpship crew were from or had even been to Sudeten. Someone randomly having a contact here was simply implausible.
Besides, they were all shareholders now. Hurting the Company would only hurt their bottom line. Considering the size of the sale we were here to make, the bribe for any information would have had to be astronomical to be worth the potential loss.
"Either way," I continued after my moment of thought, "we've blundered into the middle of somebody's ploy here, and I don't like it. Nobody goes on shore leave in groups smaller than ten. If somebody needs to take a piss, their buddies can wait in the hallway outside," I ordered.
Chapman nodded, turned, and motioned at one of the others, who started taking notes. I stopped for a moment to organize my thoughts and refer to my notes from the conversation.
"I need someone to look into a Mister Chester Appleton and a White Glove Technologies. Also a phone number," I read it off the sheet where I'd copied it down. "I told him I would call him about meeting in person when I was able to do so and implied we're under contract."
"How's that going to mesh with what you had planned for the rumor mill?" she inquired.
"No idea," I admitted. "Right now I'm making it up as I go. Just knew I didn't want to give any information out at all if I could help it. Certainly no hints about our cargo.
"The damn thing is that I absolutely can not figure out what this is linked to. My best guess would be that LIC is checking up on us to make sure we aren't somebody's escape plan, but I'd expect a LIC operative to be smooth enough not to give the game away."
"Should have hinted that you were looking for a bribe," Captain Chapman suggested.
I turned to her and stared, a reflexive rejection on my lips before I took a moment and considered it. Lyran corruption was, indeed memetic, but it wasn't just Lyran corruption.
For most of human history, that sort of corruption had been commonplace. Expected, even. And now here in the neo-feudalism of the far future, it was again.
What a sad state of affairs.
"Never even occurred to me, and I can't try it now after not going for one on the call," I told her. Then after a moment of consideration added, "Let it be known before anyone heads out on leave. If someone wants to slip them some C-Bills for information, they should take the money, but claim they only know that we're hauling a fortune in military supplies for a Lyran Corporation." After a moment's consideration, I added.
"If the person pumping them for information wants more, they can always drop that we found a Lance of Banshees and a handful of Lostech SRM launchers. Just tell them to make sure they report it when they get back, as well as a good description of who they told it to."
Haley smirked at me. "That can be arranged, alright."
I hoped that would be enough to score some leads. Let whoever was interested in us think I was a young idealist, but that my crew could be compromised, and I might tempt them into a mistake.
Unfortunately, I couldn't shake the feeling that it wasn't going to be that easy. I was trying to line up anything in my mental map of the situation with what had been in the news. Where was the advantage to be had?
I had a sneaking suspicion that we'd landed right smack dab in the middle of someone else's game of Xanatos Speed Chess. Only I didn't know the rules and couldn't see the board or the other players.
XXXXX
Dropship Implacable, Hamarr, Sudeten System
Tamar Domains, Tamar Pact, Lyran Commonwealth
May 1, 3010
Olivetti's rep in Hamarr finally managed to free up some time to talk to us nearly two days after I'd paid the phone company to let them know we had some things we'd like to sell them. I wasn't sure if that was a power play, general bureaucratic sloth, or a result of someone else's meddling, but if I hadn't been practicing my smile in front of a mirror, I had a feeling I would have looked more annoyed than happy to see him.
He clearly had no idea why I was meeting him in a corridor of the dropship instead of in a fancy boardroom inside the spaceport somewhere.
"Ah, Mister Keller! I'm glad you were able to spare some time from your busy schedule to come down here for a face-to-face meeting," I said, giving him a firm handshake. He returned it passably. Since he looked like I had in my previous life, twenty pounds overweight and balding, I was a touch surprised. Maybe he actually did have a busy schedule I was taking him away from.
"Indeed, your message indicated that you had acquired some items you thought Olivetti would be interested in purchasing?" His german accent was harsher than I was used to, and a lot thicker than the average I'd dealt with so far.
Wonder where he's from? Maybe offworld? It wasn't important, but that's how my brain seemed to work, fixating on little things. Better than needing to bite the inside of my cheek to hold back a smile.
"We do indeed," I said, stepping back a pace and entering Bay Three through the corridor's man-door while gesturing for him to follow.
I saw him noticing the placard by that door noting that it was the 'Aerospace Bay.' He didn't look impressed.
"Mister Weber, Olivetti is in the business of producing military platforms, not purchasing them. If you have Aerospace Fighters to sell, you should have contacted either the LCAF or one of your fellow mercenary outfits."
More or less the response I'd been expecting, still it was nice when things went to plan.
"Mister Keller, this is a military dropship. Her cargo bay only carries fifty tons," I said and snapped my fingers. One of the crewmen hit the lights for the previously darkened bay, packed nearly from the deck to the overhead with boxes and pallets. I'd made sure that there were several FE 280s given prominent place as well as some PPCs, since Mr Appleton had been so interested in them.
"We'd never have been able to fit everything onboard if we hadn't gotten creative with the space," I let that statement hand in the air for a moment as he stared before continuing. "An SRM-6 launcher, two PPCs, two five centimeter lasers, two three centimeter lasers, and two machine guns. A 280 fusion engine, gyro, cockpit electronics, life support system, and sensors. These are what Warhammers are made of. I've got everything but heat sinks, myomers, armor, ammunition, and the chassis onboard for eighty Warhammers.
"So, let's talk turkey."