Chapter 12
???
A slight fist swept out, scattering the contents of the end table on to the floor, including a crystalline ashtray that promptly shattered. As the remains clattered on the tile, a male voice spoke up.
"If you're quite finished-"
"I am damn well not!" a female voice all but shouted back. "Do you know what we invested in this operation? And all of it is wasted!"
There was a deliberate pause before the male voice spoke again.
"I am well aware of the cost, both in assets and prestige. We were anticipated and outmaneuvered. Masterfully. It does not necessarily follow that the investment in this operation was wasted."
There was a long pause.
"Ah, I … take your meaning," the woman finally responded.
"Indeed, the outcome was not the one we anticipated, but it has revealed information that our mutual target would likely have preferred to remain hidden. Now that the existence of a secondary location is known, we can examine records to determine the most probable location for Olivetti's little black site. Once we've found it …"
"I see. It would be a shame if a pirate raid happened to ruin such a large investment."
"Exactly. I also looked into the Mercenary company he hired to try to sneak this shipment by us. Their last public contract was on Icar, so we've got a direction to look in as well."
"Galactic North. Beyond the border, do you think? An old Rim world?"
"Entirely possible. So in the future, do refrain from such histrionics until they're actually appropriate."
XXXXX
Olivetti Weaponry Manufacturing Center, Outside Hamarr, Sudeten System
Tamar Domains, Tamar Pact, Lyran Commonwealth
May 9th, 3010
Michael Olivetti smiled at the two men departing his office, giving no evidence that he'd just concluded some of the most intense negotiations in his career.
"Jacob, Zack, all clear?" he asked the detection specialists, though by their expressions he already knew the answer.
"All clear, Your Grace," Jacob, the older of the two, answered.
"Good, good. Thank you for coming so quickly, and at this hour."
"All part of the service, Your Grace," Jacob said and tipped his hat.
That was a weight off Olivetti's mind. He certainly didn't want the conversation he was about to have to be overheard.
Walking into his office, he seated himself at his desk and punched in a familiar number. A few moments later, the TriVid projector came to life as the call was answered.
"Daddy? I was expecting to hear from you earlier in the day," his daughter Narcissa said, then went on, "Did the deal fall through?"
He could understand the concern. Ever since Olivetti Weaponry's small PPC line had been sabotaged, he and Narcissa had been trying to find a replacement source for the difficult to produce weapons.
Strangely, sources that had been available just weeks before had abruptly dried up. With no one selling and his first bi-annual delivery date upcoming, he had been faced with the prospect of defaulting on 20 'Mechs. Each of which would have activated a penalty clause in his company's contract with the LCAF.
The monetary cost of that would have been bad enough, but it would also have damaged Olivetti Weaponry's reputation. His was still a young company by the standards of the Inner Sphere. The way the penalties would have hit the bottom line wouldn't have compared to what the damage to his reputation would have done to future investments and licensing deals.
A fate which had been averted by a bolt from the blue.
"No, but the situation is related, which is why I had my office swept for bugs and why I'm using the secure line. Young Mister Weber didn't just find a forgotten supply depot; he claims to have found an intact series of feeder factories on an old Rim Worlds Republic planet."
Narcissa gasped and her eyes widened.
"Indeed," he said, encompassing her reaction with the comment. "He's a very good salesman, good at subverting expectations and selling hard while you're off balance. Even with warning from Keller about the way he'd taken him aback, he still managed to do the same thing to me this morning. He's very smooth, especially given his age."
"Maybe a touch too smooth?" his daughter asked, passing a hand through brown hair as she followed his train of thought.
"Just so. If he's on the level, then this isn't an opportunity to be missed. However, if he's simply running some sort of longer-term scam or even just exaggerating, I need to know. That means I need someone I can trust absolutely to lay eyes on these assets before I risk taking out the loan we'd need to expand our Warhammer chassis line and clone the Final Assembly tooling."
Sourcing more armor, heat sinks, and myomers should be trivial by comparison.
"I can certainly clear my calendar, but that will set back some of my efforts to network among the Court at Tamar. And if this last crisis has proved anything, it's that we need more contacts in Trellshire, Skye, and Donegal."
She was correct; outside of Duke Brewer who was in favor of anything that improved the power and security of the Lyran Commonwealth and Archduke Selvin Kelswa of Tamar who approved of the tax revenue and material Olivetti provided, he had few allies. His rapid rise to power and position had put more than one nose out of joint. Narcissa had been starting to change that by building a network of friends, acquaintances, and contacts, but in her absence some of the effect would almost certainly be lost. Even so …
"Unfortunately, I think your travel plans will have to change. The young notables of Tamar will have to do without your presence for a time," he said after a moment. Then a thought occurred to him.
"Do you suppose your circle would be interested in stories about the 'wild periphery' when you got back?" he inquired. "Captain Weber was, of course, duly cautious about giving any firm details on precisely where his find is located, but he did have to admit it wasn't in Lyran territory if he wanted to benefit from the Import Bill of 2804's tax breaks for non-Lyran companies selling military supplies to approved LCAF suppliers."
Narcissa, now nodding along, cut in.
"If I write and brag about the expedition out into unclaimed space you paid for in honor of my birthday next month, that would certainly be enough to keep my name relevant for a while. Of course, I'd have to have some stories to tell when I get back, but I can certainly come up with something over, what, four months? Five?"
"It sounds like you have a plan then," Michael said. His daughter had a quick wit. She'd be a very good CEO once he was gone. Of course she was still learning, so …
"Also, if it turns out that Captain Weber is on the level, you will presumably have two months with him on the way back from the periphery to Sudeten. A budding business tycoon who's fairly handsome and a baroness sharing a Dropship for two months. Well, anything might happen," he said fighting back a grin.
"Daddy!" Narcissa objected, rapidly flushing at his insinuation, and he couldn't help but laugh at her outrage.
XXXXX
Hamarr, Sudeten System
Tamar Domains, Tamar Pact, Lyran Commonwealth
May 14th, 3010
Jadon yawned as he entered the small flat he'd managed to secure for his family. It was two hours after noon, and he had about half a day before he had to be back at work for another twelve-hours-plus-Comp shift at the little machine shop where he'd finally gotten hired on to make parts for old tractors.
At least the apartment was quiet for the moment. The kids were still in school and his wife was at work for about another three hours, so he had time to get wound down and get to sleep before they got home.
As his mind was wont to do, it drifted back to the way jobs at Olivetti had dried up just after he and the family had arrived last year.
If only we'd been able to get on an earlier Dropship, he lamented for perhaps the dozenth time as he assembled a sandwich.
Still, he had a job that paid the bills, even if he was overqualified and underpaid and the school his kids were going to was a marginal improvement over their last one. If he and his wife weren't really on speaking terms, well, she'd come around. She was worried, but once Olivetti started hiring again things would turn around.
Or, hell, maybe THI will be looking for some talent once things shake out after the arrests, he considered. Maybe calling there would be worth a shot.
Idly, his eyes sought out the phone, wondering if it was too soon to be the squeaky wheel, only to see that there was a message on the machine. With being so new to Sudeten, the message was unlikely to be someone calling to invite the family over for dinner.
I hope it isn't the school, the last thing he needed was one of the kids getting into trouble. Bracing for bad news, he hit the play button.
"This message is for Mr. Jadon Ortiz. My name is Beth Simmons and I'm with Olivetti Weaponry's HR department. We have an application on file for you, and I'm calling to inquire if you're still interested in a position as a Production Engineer,"
The message continued, but he wasn't in any condition to hear it. With a whoop, he jumped into the air and raised both fists in victory.
"Haha! Yes, yes, yes!" he called out, before realizing that the machine was playing back the woman's number. He scrambled for a pen and some scrap paper then replayed the message, still grinning, to copy down the contact information.
Managing to dial the number with only once making a mistake due to his hands shaking, he waited for long moments for the extension to connect. After a handful of rings that felt like they took forever, the voice from his answering machine picked up.
"Hello, you've reached Beth Simmons, Human Resources."
"Ah," Jadon had to pause to clear his throat and his mouth felt like a desert. "Sorry about that, this is Jadon Ortiz returning your call. I am, indeed, still interested in a position as a Production Engineer at Olivetti."
"Ah, Mister Ortiz! I have your file right here," the woman remarked. "Your work experience looks good and we've reached out to your references and checked your education and background. Based on the results, I'm authorized to offer you employment at a salary of …"
She paused for a moment, then quoted a figure that was more than triple what he was making at the machine shop. The hours would almost certainly be better as well. Actually …
"Do you know yet what shift you'll want me to work primarily?" At that there was a pause.
"Actually, this position isn't on Sudeten. I'm not actually at liberty to discuss where it is until you've been in to sign an NDA. Passage will be covered for you and your dependents, though you'll be on a bulk liner. A converted Mule, the Long Haul will be making the run," and that was a point against. They'd made the trip to Sudeten on that dropship and his wife had hated it. Of course he'd have a guaranteed job at the end this time around. Realizing his thoughts had distracted him, he refocused on the conversation.
"-and you'll be provided lodging by the company upon arrival. If you can come to our Hamarr campus today, I can get the preliminary paperwork out of the way and get you some more details."
He looked at the clock and considered the prospect of another twelve plus hour shift making a piss poor wage. Then he considered the salary he'd been offered. Fuck it, I'll call off for tonight. I warned them when I took the job that I might be getting a call and need to leave at the drop of a hat.
"Yeah, I can make it in an hour or so if I take public transportation."
"Then I look forward to seeing you soon, Mister Ortiz."
XXXXX
ComStar Enclave, Hamarr, Sudeten System
Tamar Domains, Tamar Pact, Lyran Commonwealth
May 20th, 3010
It was difficult to convince myself that I wasn't walking into Mos Eisley. For all that most people in the Inner Sphere's first thoughts if the phone company was brought up would be their business or charitable works, mine were rather different. The upper levels of management within ComStar weren't concerned with feeding the poor or preserving technology. They were concerned with the exercise of power.
So while Sudeten's HPG compound might not be the wretched hive of scum and villainy that Hilton Head on Terra was, it was the seat of an up and coming industrial world, and that meant it would have a Precentor that was looking to leverage that status for power.
I really didn't want to draw any serious attention. Did not.
So, of course, as soon as I gave my name and ID to the receptionist, I was immediately informed that the station Precentor would need to speak to me. I know I wasn't able to hide my surprise, but I could only hope any dismay would just look like befuddlement.
My mind was racing, trying to figure out what might have given me away and if I was about to be interrogated, disappeared, or just shot and stuck in a dumpster.
"Do you happen to know what about?" I inquired, trying to buy some time.
"Oh, yes, it says here that your contract arbitration has concluded."
I felt the need to let out a sigh of relief, but suppressed it. This could still be the lead-in to a more subtle interrogation. I needed to keep my guard up. Worse, I needed to keep up my guard without looking like I was on guard.
"I hadn't heard. I'd hate to waste the Precentor's time, though. Weber's Warriors is a small company."
"It's standard procedure to help prevent misunderstandings that at least a Demi-Precentor handle the resolution, and Demi-Precentor Anderson isn't available today," the woman explained.
All I could do at that point was nod.
"Alright, as long as I'm not going to have a Precentor annoyed that I'm wasting his time," I said with my best charming smile. It drew a smile back, so I was willing to count it as a success.
"You don't have to worry about that," she responded, "Blake calls us to serve. Rank just changes who and how."
"I'm not a believer, but I can respect your sincerity," I told her. It was just too bad I couldn't expect high-ranked members of her organization to share it.
Another … Acolyte? Aspirant? Whatever they were called. A dude in a robe appeared to escort me to my unexpected, largely unwanted meeting.
The fact that he immediately led me down into the facility instead of up got my nerves twisting tighter. Dungeons and torture chambers were, after all, traditionally buried under castles.
On the other hand, if they were going to throw me in a cell or interrogate me, I was pretty much done for no matter what, so I followed along, doing the best I could to remember the route we were taking, just in case.
After a long ramp and an elevator ride, we stepped out into a more open office with an armored window overlooking …
I let out a whistle despite myself. The window opened onto a truly massive room full of machinery. It looked like something out of the dreams of the Adeptus Mechanicus, if lacking in two-headed eagles and skulls, so it was probably the Hyperpulse Generator itself. Mostly though …
"Good Lord, that must have been a pain in the ass to build."
"A different time," a voice from the side spoke up. It also revealed a moderately dark-skinned man in fancy red robes with a smile on his face. "This station is one of the few remaining examples of late 27th century building practices. It was actually one of the Phase One stations built after the technology was authorized for use in the Commonwealth.
"I enjoy seeing visitors' first reactions to the sight, though I confess, yours wasn't one of the more common ones," the man spoke, then extended his hand. "I'm Duncan Vadekar, Precentor Sudeten."
I took his hand and shook. He had a good grip and didn't look like he was going to have me shot for disrespect, but I knew I was still blushing in embarrassment.
"Apologies. Hard to tell how far down we are, but I was remembering about where the water table is in Hamarr and noticed how much farther down the chamber there extends. Just keeping it all dry must have been a herculean task when the Star League set to building this place." I offered, conciliatorily.
"Oh, I'm not offended," the Precentor replied, "As I said, your reaction isn't in the majority, but I've heard much the same before."
Regaining a bit more of my composure, I nodded.
"I apologize for the language, anyway. My mother would be disappointed in my lack of manners, if nothing else," I said, again shooting for 'embarrassed but earnest.'
"Well, then I shall accept, but there's really no need," he said and gestured toward a door to the side that I hadn't initially noted. The acolyte opened it for us and Precentor Vadekar ushered me into his office.
After taking a few minutes to get situated and look out at the HPG from the office's window, he offered refreshments. I declined everything but a glass of water, and the Precentor got down to the point.
"Now, you requested Contract Arbitration for your company's contract with the Duke of Icar on January eighth of this year, then after an incident of the fifteenth you were forced to leave the planet and subsequently the system after the Ducal Guard opened fire on your dropship."
He paused in his recitation, so I chipped in.
"That's sounds correct, though I don't remember the time. The incident may have happened on the fourteenth."
The Precentor nodded, and I resolved to bite my damn tongue in the future. The question had been pro forma and hadn't needed any expounding on my part, but I was nervous.
"I've been asked to pass on thanks from the investigative team that handled this case. Due to the clear documentation you provided, this was much more of an open-and-shut process than is usual with contract arbitration.
"Because it was a very clear-cut case, the Duke was found to be entirely at fault for the incident in addition to standing in breach of contract on the items you noted. His attempt to claim breach of contract on your part was denied by investigators after the investigation team verified that he, in collaboration with the Lyran Guards unit on-planet, had obstructed delivery of a replacement cockpit for your company's Griffin after payment had been provided. As you noted, this action was in violation of your contract and effectively invalidates his claim that your company failed to have a Lance of 'Mechs ready to field as required by the contract.
"As such, the MRB investigation has found in your favor, and the outstanding balance owed to you has been collected, plus interest and penalties."
With that declaration, he passed a sheet of paper across the desk to me. It was an itemized list of charges, and it was substantial, including the list price, not the salvage price, of a Blackjack, Vulcan, and Panther. The yearly planetary budget of Icar wasn't a small amount, but the total bill had gone from a rounding error to a notable amount.
"Sir, this is-" I began, but he cut me off.
"The Review Board was very disturbed that one of our guaranteed contracts had been so flagrantly violated," he said, looking me dead in the eye. "Thanks to your conscientious actions in a difficult time for you and your company, they were presented with an ironclad case.
"They elected to make an example in the aftermath, so that the next person or group that is tempted to violate their contract will remember what happened to Duke Ferguson. And think twice."
That made a lot of sense. ComStar's reputation was one of the foundations of their power, and it had been, if not damaged, then at least threatened by His Grace, the Duke of Icar's actions.
But it also felt like a bribe.
I was a young man, on the outside at least, and it was always tempting for a young man to think that the world was fair. At one point in my life, having ComStar count coup for me would have been deeply satisfying, especially with the payout at the end. Now, though, it was just making me more suspicious.
Were they just hoping to cultivate me as a source? Or did they already suspect that I'd found something?
Either way, I needed to show a consistent face to avoid suspicion. At the same time, I needed to do something to help keep redress the fact that I was arguably in ComStar's debt. In a flash, I knew what I could do.
"In that case, all I can do is say thank you for handling this situation," I said and extended a hand. The Precentor and I again shook. Then, as I leaned back in my seat, I looked back down at the paper and let myself frown as if in consideration.
"You know, normally if I was going to make a donation it would be to a church, but I don't actually know anything about the local churches. I do know that ComStar does good work all over the Inner Sphere with its charity work. I'd like to donate ten percent of this," I said, waving the paper, "to whatever your department is that does charitable works."
That seemed to catch the Precentor off guard, but even that was less something I saw than something I felt.
"I can certainly help you with that," he said, but I waved him off.
"I've already taken a bunch of your time today. I wouldn't want to be a bother."
"You aren't a bother," he insisted. "Besides, I want to see the expression on Marian's face when you submit the paperwork for the donation."
That surprised a laugh out of me.
"Well, in that case, lead on," I said, and we swiftly departed the office.
XXXXX
Olivetti Industries Campus, Hamarr, Sudeten System
Tamar Domains, Tamar Pact, Lyran Commonwealth
May 20th, 3010
Even on a planet like Sudeten, there were dispossessed MechWarriors. Some had come hoping for a slot in Olivetti's Corporate Security Force cum Ducal Guard, others were failed mercenaries, and yet more were young hopefuls.
Frankly, just dealing with the ones who'd hoped to join up with Olivetti was going to be enough of a headache. I'd copped to having found four machines. With our … known casualty, that meant I could believably hire five Mechwarriors for active duty. I could probably get away with hiring that many again as Techs or Astechs as their qualifications warranted. It was far from uncommon to get a foot in the door that way, just in case. Anyone who was paying attention to my purchases would probably just assume we'd taken more casualties than we actually had.
Honestly, if I were willing to let it be known that our landhold had a problem with the native wildlife trying to prey on our BattleMechs, I could have hired enough to run three shifts of patrols without any suspicion from that quarter, but nine or ten people was going to expand our pool of manpower by something like 16%. Better to integrate this crop of hirees before adding any more.
Besides, we're going to have to work our tails off to get back up to standard. Expanding from a light Company of eight Elite-tier Mechwarriors up to a Battalion and a half meant letting people into cockpits that were either green as grass or rusty as old nails. The ones who were rusty just needed some time to blow that rust off.
The green ones, however, were going to need to be run through the sort of intense drilling and skirmishing with training weapons that dad had subjected me to before he finally let me have Striker Alpha. I wasn't sure if the wildlife was going to act as an assistant or impediment to that yet.
On the one hand, patrols would be good awareness training if nothing else, but fighting the wildlife might teach bad habits. On the other hand, it would at least acquaint young pilots with the idea that there were things out there that could threaten their lordly MechWarrior selves.
Realizing I was dithering again, I refocused on the summary I'd been reading. After making my donation to ComStar's charity wing, I'd actually been able to do what I'd gone there for in the first place: get dossiers on all the potential hirees that Olivetti's HR had in their files.
So far, I'd interviewed a dozen dispossessed MechWarriors. Two I'd hired outright, liking what I'd read and what I'd seen of them enough to want them onboard. I also had three more that were pretty solid options for the 'hiring as Astechs' story. That still left four or five hires to make. Though, with what I was seeing so far for my next appointment, that might drop to three or four.
Meidlin Levy had been seriously considered by Olivetti Weaponry, but ultimately rejected. Officially, it was because most of her experience was in the Griffin, which they didn't field.
Unofficially, it was because she hadn't used a single reference from after her time at the Nagelring.
Olivetti's people had taken that to mean that she'd underperformed or hadn't adapted well to military life.
The documentation I'd gotten from ComStar had gone a bit deeper than that. It turned out that Miss Levy had been assigned to the 30th Lyran Guards after her time in the 'Ring, and she hadn't gotten along well with Colonel Gideon or the rest of his officers.
As a result, she'd quit in disgust after only serving the minimum service term.
Frankly, I was willing to take the absence of a good reference from Gideon as a positive reference in and of itself. ComStar couldn't give me access to Miss Levy's grades, but she had scored just outside the top ten percent of her class. I was perfectly willing to benefit from the LCAF's loss in this case.
Assuming her personality wasn't a total train wreck, at least. She wouldn't be the first person to end up bitter after being treated badly by those in authority. Still, just because I felt for her didn't mean I was going to invite someone truly toxic into the unit.
My ruminations were interrupted by an incoming call. I checked the time and nodded. If I'd made that bet with myself, I'd still be winning. Miss Levy was following the trend. Ten minutes early.
I answered the phone and listened to the secretary tell me what I already knew before thanking her and having her send Meidlin on back.
My first impression was that she looked surprisingly Japanese for someone with such a Jewish-sounding name. The second was that she looked excited, but not desperate the way some of the applicants had in the last couple days.
"Miss Levy," I said, extending a hand to her as I stood. She took it and shook. Like most MechJocks she had a good grip. Better than most civilian men even. "Thank you for coming in today."
"Thanks for inviting me," she shot back. "I was actually thinking of moving on. As far as I knew, Olivetti wasn't going to be hiring for a while yet."
"Well, I can clear that up at least, Duke Olivetti is just letting me borrow his Human Resources department for a bit," I explained as I reached for the paperwork. "I actually need you to sign an NDA before I can tell you much more."
That drew a raised eyebrow, but didn't seem to be a dealbreaker for her. For several minutes my borrowed office was silent except for the occasional sound of shuffling paper. Reaching the end of the document, Miss Levy signed and handed it back to me.
"Alright, this is very mysterious. Who are you with if not Olivetti?"
"I'm Alistair Weber, Captain of Weber's Warriors," I saw her recognize the name. "Aye, those Weber's Warriors," I acknowledged.
"Hell, I think I owe you a drink for what you did to Jackass Gideon," she said, a wide grin breaking across her features.
I couldn't hold back a snort at the nickname.
"Really?" I asked.
"Oh yeah. His officers and NCOs liked him well enough, but the troops knew he was a piece of shit."
"And you were more in the troop's camp than the officers?" I inquired.
That drew a scowl.
"Yeah, I was," she said, not quite glaring at me. It was still a very intense look. "I grew up hearing stories about The Walking Hellfire from my uncle. He and grandpa both served in the Thirtieth, but I doubt they'd have even recognized the regiment. I tried for years to get a decent training budget out of that asshole without a hint of progress. Somehow there was always money for the Officers' mess, but try to hit him up for training ammunition and the coffers were all tapped out. Heard he got a bunch of people killed when the Regulars showed up for a visit."
"Why not report him, then?" I asked. I figured I knew what I was going to hear, but …
"With what evidence? Knowing something and proving it are two different things," she said. "Besides, when I mustered out, I did report him for misappropriation of funds." She shrugged.
"Nothing ever came of it. LCAF's IG is worthless as a gelding put out to stud."
That time I was able to keep a better lid on my reaction to the colloquialism. It was also about what I'd expected. Tried to work through channels, got nowhere, then got out.
"Well you're right, he did get a lot of people killed when the Dracs hit Icar. He's lucky the Warriors were guarding Uniontown and the Tungsten mine or it would have been worse than it was. But that brings us to why I asked you to come in for an interview.
"Your file says you piloted a Griffin for four years, but not what variant."
"I've actually worked with both the -1N and -1S, but I've got four years in the -1S and only a year or so in the -1N," Meidlin responded.
"Well that works out, because I've got a -1S with an empty seat. Unfortunately I don't have it with me, but we can do a check ride today if you're willing to try out a Firestarter or a Wasp…"