Strangers in a Strange Sphere - [Battletech]

It should not come as a surprise that when the Mob...Battlemechs were transferred from the ComStar Ships to the Furina De Fontaine; they were soon swarmed by hundreds of technicians and engineers, dozens of soldiers standing by to give their opinions and lend expertise gained from previous experiences in workshops and the maintenance or operation of vehicles and combat automata. Where TAUBENMUTTER had analyzed the grand scale of the phone ministry's technology, these men, women, and thirds were tasked with ripping even the tiniest secret out of these machines by going elbow-deep into their guts. At the same time as that happened, the ship began preparations to journey toward the source of the emergency distress call; powerful telescopes and sensors focused on the star system it originated from, TAUBENMUTTER aiding the efforts with its superior ability to crunch numbers and create connections between data points.

On that note, after three days of ensuring that their entry vector would be free from any gravitational well that would rip the Alcubierre Drive's bubble apart, teams were left behind at the ships of ComStar, to be collected later, whose job it was to analyze anything they could find, and, potentially, see if a restoration of the ships was possible. Having another set of ships capable of FTL travel, and another method entirely, bound to stars as it was, had been deemed invaluable by Captain Adams.

But after all the preparations were completed, and the teams securely ferried over with enough supplies to last three months (though the plan was to return in two weeks at the latest), Captain Adams gave the order. Machinery whirred to life. Gravity was roused like an ancient dragon, slumbers of eons shaken off by the urging of its handlers, and its eyes opened with the stretching of muscle and sinew and creaking bone. The stars stood, for but a moment, until they bled into tears and streaks, a shimmer of infinite reality coursing through and around the Furina De Fontaine, its passengers and AGI feeling, beyond feeling, a shift in reality...and they leapt forward. Estimated Time of Arrival: 1 Day, 9 Hours, 14 Minutes, and 57 Seconds.

---

"I...this is like looking at an artwork that makes you weep tears of wonder and feel endless grief in your chest that aches in your very soul...and have it made out of toenail," Ubunu growled, staring at the internals of the Battlemechs' computer, the "Blackjack" as it was apparently called, splayed out in front of him and the rest of his team, each in various stages of acceptance at what they were seeing before them. After the Battlemechs had been transported over, they had been placed in hangars or halls near workshops large or well-equipped enough to undertake reverse-engineering efforts.

"Descriptive," Li snorted, shaking her head, staring at what a futuristic computer from over a century ago would have looked like...only to have it be used seriously. "The other teams report similar things. Whoever created these things, the drugs they snorted were potent. I am certain I saw Mother have an aneurysm when it tried to aid in the analysis of the miniature nuclear reactors in each of these things. The dismantling team wasn't that far behind in that either."

"Yeah, but there is a difference between being smart enough to break down nuclear energy to be mobile, and then there is not even using fecking microelectronics below 400μm!" Ubunu angrily declared, pointing at the scattered guts of the computer. "I am certain we are producing dildos with more sophisticated electronics aboard the Fontaine! How is an interstellar civilization utterly failing to do in centuries what we did in three decades?!"

"Oh, don't you start complaining about the electronics to me," another one of the team piped up, scrunched over their computer like a person that had never heard the very concept of posture, a glint of ire in their beady eyes. "Have you taken a look at their code? Especially their targeting," they continued, the last word spoken like an insult to God, "software? We had better means of shooting at each other when we did it manually!"

"Alright, pipe down kids," Lui De Trion interjected, rolling his eyes at the two. "So what does it matter that they are shitty at electronics and coding? Mother and the Captain both said that civilization here took a nosedive into barbarism and ignorance, with a different history to boot. Be thankful that after a millennium of independent technological progress and regression, we can understand their technology at all. The engineers are going apeshit over the alloys and Ragnarök proofed machinery, with the energy department sulking due to their lasers and reactors. I, for one, am glad that we aren't going to pop up in their boonies thinking we are hot shit only to get our asses handed to us by their equivalent of a hoodlum with a scrap gun."

"Yeah, no, fuck that," Ubunu spoke up, looking up from his phone with equally mixed annoyance and professional anger. "My wife confirmed it; our dildos are more advanced than their war machines."

---

"Decelerating in 3...2...1...now," TAUBENMUTTER calmly intoned, the Furina De Fontaine slowing to a stop just as a planet came into focus, doing so just as every mind on the bridge watching the screens displaying the camera feeds from the outer hull began to believe they were about to crash into said planet. "We have completed our Journey. Captain, I am registering several radio signals from the surface; please stand by for analyzation," it continued, and its pigeon spoke again in the timespan it took for Wriothesley to open his mouth and draw breath to speak. "Captain, the inhabitants of this world are engaged in combat against a pirate group that took over three years ago. Casualties are in the hundreds, and every channel we have access to is flooded with combat-related chatter. Re-orientating telescopes for visual confi-" a pause. There should not be a pause. TAUBENMUTTER had no reason for that; it was too advanced to do so, too mighty in its processing power for a pause. Wriothesley's eyes flickered for a second to its status panel, and noted, in the same synaptic recognition it took for a thought to form, that it had used its entire legal allotment of time compression, minus two minutes, within that second.

Its words, usually formed in a level note of androgynous professionalism devoid of overt emotion, lacked any sort of inflection. It was not a mind that now spoke. But a machine intelligence.

"[Mass graves] confirmed. Systematic destruction of [Hospitals] and [Schools] confirmed. Registering over 200 villages and 2 towns in disrepair and surrounded by mass graves. [Pirate Forces] now designated as [Hostile] are currently using human shields in combat. Past use of a [Nuclear Warhead] confirmed in the northern continent. Captain, as per the Fontaine's Charter given by the United Nations, we must ensure the safety of the [Colonists] below. What are your orders?"



Yes. What are they?
(6-Hour Moratorium)
[] (Write-In)

Suggested Structure:
[Main Objective]
[Secondary Objective]
[Militia Contact]
[Pirate Contact]
[Securing Prisoners]
[Primary Aftermath Objective]
[Secondary Aftermath Objective]

What You Know:
The planet below is embroiled in an armed conflict between [Colonist Militia] and [Pirate Forces].
The Militia is led by a woman named Nina 'Bad Cowgirl' McCullough, piloting an "Archer" against the Pirates. She is supported by 2 "Locusts" in the fight.
The Pirates are utilizing 1 Javelin, 2 Panthers, and 1 "Shadow Hawk" Battlemechs.
The fighting is primarily concentrated in the planet's capital city, as assumed due to its large population of an estimated 400 thousand people.
The Militia and Pirates are not utilizing any drones that Mother can see.
The Pirates are making liberal use of flamethrowers and human shields.
There is no artillery present.
Radio Discipline is non-existent on both sides.
There is a dilapidated spaceport to the north of the Capital, from where you can disembark troops safe-ish, but not with support from the Militia.
The battlezone's climate is [Arid Shrubland].

What You Can Use:
10k Military Personnel equipped with Power Armor, Personal Coilgun Weaponry, Drones, and aided by Exo-Strider Combat Automata.
4x Ta'xet-Class capable of providing limited Ortillery Support.

Complications:
[Reasonably Inferred] The Milita has no idea who the fuck you are, nor are they likely to help you during the battle unless you make your support of them loud and clear. They will be suspicious as all hell regardless.
[Deadly Certain] The Pirates are using Human Shields. All efforts must be made to ensure the greatest possible number of them live.
[Certain] Head of Security Clorinde Ellis will lead the fight from planetside unless stopped. However, she will not be on the front.
[Certain] Victory will result in a massive humanitarian crisis.
[Certain] Use of Ortillery will result in Minor Civilian Casualties in a perfect scenario.
[Uncertain] The Pirates will fight to the death.
[Uncertain] The Militia will kill all Pirates regardless of Surrenders.
[Certain] ANY AND ALL SURRENDERS MUST BE HONORED, AND YOU ARE FORCED TO TREAT THEM AS PER THE GENEVA CONVENTION.
[Certain] The above will cause strife with the Militia and local colonists.