July 9, 3025
Stillwell, Verona
It was only in the clear light of day that Commander Ricardo Foley saw the blue and white battlemech in all its glory, flying in its impossible manner towards the small landing pads by Stillwell's Domestic Airport, which was where his 5th Mechanized Brigade had been based off for the past two years following the militia restructuring.
"Seeing it for myself, it looks weirder than you said it was, sir. I mean, where are the jets?"
The words of his young aide-de-camp Hollace Burnside, who had dressed up in her best dress uniform for this meeting, reflected his own thoughts on the matter, and he simply nodded at the observation.
Even from here he could tell that the strange battlemech had been cleaned off quite nicely, the scorch marks gone, and the finish smoother and cleaner than last night. The machine also carried a weapon on its right arm, a small shield that had a gigantic folded blade by the forearm, making the already formidable mech look intimidating.
He noted the small craft the mech was escorting, looking nothing like any other craft he'd seen, and his eye for detail saw the resemblance in engineering between the two machines just from their aesthetics alone. The battlemech and the craft were definitely related, likely made by the same factory, and coupled with the impressive state of both machines spoke of an organization with significant backing behind them.
'Freelance mercenaries eh?' his thoughts asked disbelieving. Then again, no matter the secrets behind this mech and its pilot, as long as their intentions towards Stillwell remained harmless or helpful he decided that he didn't need to pry on them, though he'd keep an eye open and ear out just in case.
The small craft landed vertically first, while the mech literally hovered about, likely scanning for threats. Only when the craft's engines died did the mech itself land, genuflecting with remarkable grace for a machine its size. Its left arm lifted a cupped hand to its chest, and before Foley could wonder what it was doing a large part of the torso armor opened up to reveal... the cockpit?
Now that was an unorthodox place for a humanoid mech to house its pilot in, not to mention quite dangerous in his opinion: most humanoid battlemechs had cockpits in the head not only for improved visibility, but also to ensure the best ejection route in case the pilot needed to punch out, and finally the cockpit would be farther away from the fusion reactor, resulting in a relatively cool ride. He could see the advantages, such as much heavier armor protection for the pilot, especially as he didn't see a visible glass canopy... unless that massive green glass orb on the chest served that function, in which case that would just be plain idiocy.
Between the seeming inability of the pilot to punch out, and the likely blistering heat inside the cockpit, Commander Foley thanked his stars that more sensible people worked on battlemechs instead of designing toys like these.
He shook his head at that.
'A very powerful toy' he admitted, but seemingly one designed without a shred of thought in sound battlemech design. Still, given the machine's inexplicable ability to fly and the combat abilities it displayed yesterday, perhaps the standard of logical design had changed while he was out here in the wastes.
The mechwarrior that came out though looked nothing like he expected: wearing a single-piece black and white suit that covered the entire body, showing off no skin. Having been a mechwarrior himself once wearing only a cooling vest and undies, Foley could not imagine how the young man could possibly withstand the heat in such stuffy attire, especially with a cockpit located directly under the reactor.... unless the full body suit was one of those Star League cooling suits he had heard about, making him realize that he was looking at a functional piece of LosTech.
'If only I'd had that back in the day...'
Even odder was the man's neurohelmet, a sleek, rounded design looking more like a motorcycle helmet than the boxy shoulder resting contraptions he was familiar with. Indeed, the unobtrusive helm allowed the man to turn his head towards them, and give them a bow.
The man stood on the machine's raised hand, fiddling with something unseen on the machine's middle finger, before the hand suddenly moved by itself, riding to the ground on it before taking a step off.
"Woah, flashy much ain't he?" Hollace exclaimed with much awe. It was a rather impressive and regal way to disembark from a mech, and from the amazed looks from Hollace and the riflemen around him they looked to share the same thought.
He watched as the mechwarrior ran over to the small craft, where a small ramp on its front had opened up, to reveal a young girl, looking vaguely Capellan, wearing a green and white jacketed uniform far too sharp and pristine to be on anyone but an offworlder with too much money. A noblewoman? She definitely stood out like a sore thumb against the loose and grungy sand-yellow outfits of his men, and even his own full-dress uniform looked nowhere as new or freshly pressed. The mechwarrior giving the lady a gentleman's bow with a hand across his chest didn't dispel the impression any, nor the woman's refined gait and confident movement, in contrast to the mechwarrior's more lax approach
Foley's two guests approached him as the mechwarrior easily removed his helmet, allowing the aging commander to see the man's face for the first time: sharp features, with the serious yet unfocused gaze of a rookie mechwarrior, just as young as the woman was, with messy dishevelled hair.
Time for the formalities then.
"Soran Ibrahim I assume," he greeted professionally, extending a hand out, which was steadily returned with the mechwarrior's own. "Once more, Commander Ricardo Foley of the Verona Militia, Fifth Mechanized Brigade."
"That's me, freelancer," the man replied casually, and it didn't escape Foley's attention that the man didn't name the organization behind them. Ibrahim then motioned towards the girl he came with. "And this lady here is Amia Lee."
"A pleasure to meet you, Commander Foley." The woman shook his hand gently, but firmly.
"The pleasure is mine, Miss Lee." Not a noble then, otherwise he'd have expected more of an introduction. "I admit, to see a lady such as yourself here is most unexpected."
"I'm no one special, Commander," she respectfully replied. There was a strange dissonance to her, a purpose in action only borne from experience in someone so young, yet so cheerful. "I'm simply here on my friend's request to handle negotiations for our party in regards to yesterday's agreements."
So not a superior then. If these two were not master and subordinate, but equals despite their appearance, then he was looking at something completely different from the power hierarchy he knew for people with the resources that they possess, though he couldn't see what exactly.
"My aide will be performing the same on my behalf," he nodded to the young girl beside him, who looked to be absolutely impressed at the newcomers, and gave them a lazy salute.
"Petty Officer Hollace Burnside, like the sir said I'll be here to make sure you don't rip him off!"
He levelled a glare at his exuberant aide. "Petty Officer Burnside."
She flinched at that. ".... right sir."
"I'm sure that the Petty Officer will perform an admirable job." A giggling Miss Lee moved to his aide with a friendly look. "Would you mind if I call you Holly?"
"Not at all! Like it that way in fact, but only if you let me call you Ami!"
Commander Foley only exhaled as a sign of his exasperation at his aide's lack of professionalism, a chronic fault within the militia.
"We should proceed inside so we can commence our business," he invited, wanting to get away from the heat, motioning to the jeep behind him.
"Works for me, Commander" Mister Ibrahim agreed for all of them, unable to hide the impatience in his voice. With that, Foley rode shotgun as his guests piled at the back in short order, along with a couple of troopers.
==========
Riding on the back of a military vehicle with armed soldiers was actually kind of calming for me, as it was one of the few things I was very familiar with in my previous life due to growing up in a military family. It made me glad I wasn't armed, since who knows how the militia might treat us had we brought any weapons along. Besides, I still had the smartpad (as Ami had referred to the thing I'd been calling a PDA) at hand, and it would allow me to remote pilot the Exia if we needed to get out fast.
As such I was able to take a look at city immediately outside the airport. I had seen how large it was before, but yesterday's battle had prevented me from truly appreciating the town. It actually didn't look all that different from the American or Australian towns I had visited in my life, apart from being in a desert: there were obvious signs of age, not to mention battle damage, but otherwise it looked clean and orderly enough from here. The domestic airport itself was similarly not much different from what I was used to back then, a concrete construction only a couple of stories tall for the main building covered by lots of large glass, with the tallest structure being the air traffic control tower. If not for a
Commando mech standing tall on the tarmac I would've thought this to be the DMIA or something.
My impression of the usual Battletech border town, based on accounts of the rampant technological degradation that the setting had suffered, had been more in line with the rickety towns of spaghetti westerns, so to see such a mundane and "modern" looking place from my perspective was a pleasant surprise, and further eased the nervousness I was feeling. Though I guess, a town looking like something from a thousand years ago was the very definition of backsliding...
Meanwhile Ami was engaged in impenetrable girl talk with Petty Officer Burnside just in front of me, and though I had seen Ami break out smiles during my talks with her, this was the first time I felt that she was truly ... animated. I did realize that this was the first time Ami had been in the company of people beside myself since her death, but to see her like this was like truly seeing her alive for the first time, in her element so to speak. I squashed the pang of loneliness I felt in short order: Ami was the happiest she had been since arriving in this reality, and I wished to see her find happiness here at least, like how I was trying to find my purpose here.
Besides, keeping an ear to their conversation, it was clear that Ami was learning all she can about the negotiation scene through the Petty Officer, while at the same time not making her relative lack of knowledge of Inner Sphere workings evident - well, Ami had apparently brushed up on Inner Sphere culture from the Ptolemy database, though obviously she wasn't going to get much reading in so short a time. I'm not sure if the good Commander caught it, but he did wear that lasting frown on his face.
We arrived at the terminal in short order, and a flight of stairs inside later we were led to the meeting room. It, like the rest of what I've seen, looked very 21st Century, all plastic furniture and textile flooring, and the smell of chemical cleaners mixed into the cool airconditioned air, a welcome reprieve from how hot it was outside. All of the windows shutters were closed so all the lights were open in return, but I could spy a hint of the Exia's colors outside.
Everyone took their seats, the Commander and his aide by the side nearest the door, while me and Ami took position opposite them by the windows. Finally, the negotiations can begin.
Then Commander Foley spoke out.
"Before we begin, there are questions that need to be addressed regarding your presence here."
.... okay, maybe not yet.
"Sure," I agreed, " Ask away."
==========
Clasping his hand together on the table, Foley looked at his guests, and the question he had been holding for a while came out.
"It is apparent to me that the both of you possess significant resources in the form of your battlemech and its technologies to be mere 'freelancers'," he added a mocking emphasis to the last word. His narrowed his eyes at them, "wanting to pick up scrap for money."
He narrowed his eyes. "Who are you really, and what are your plans for this town?"
There were lots of ways that his question could be answered, and indeed he had addressed the both of them just so he can confirm who was the one in charge. It was of course, standard procedure for negotiations like these, but in this case all of the oddities surrounding these two had forced him to be more direct in his approach.
He wasn't kept waiting for the answer.
"Very well," Soran Ibrahim answered, which was expected, but still unusual considering everything he'd seen, "no harm in throwing you a bone." The young man sat up straight, and crossed his arms.
"We're call ourselves
Daybreak's Bell, a paramilitary organization new to the Inner Sphere."
"A long-winded way of saying 'mercenary'," Foley scoffed at the way these people seem to think themselves above mere guns for hire.
"You're not wrong on that," Ibrahim agreed light-heartedly, unperturbed by his barb, "we do take contracts and all that for people who can afford to pay. But we do also pride ourselves in being more than that."
There was just enough there for Foley to take a stab at a guess. "Son, you're hardly the first mercs I've seen who want to become the next Wolf's Dragoons."
The young man looked at him blankly in momentary confusion, before he let out a snort. "The Wolf's Dragoons are honorable and armed with the best toys no doubt. But in the end, no matter how advanced they are or how civilized they appear to be as mercs, their ambitions go no further than that of their paychecks and their masters."
A bit at the back of his mind found something very strange about Soran's descriptions of the famous mercenary group, but he decided to shelve that for later.
"So you claim to be ambitious?"
"More than them at any rate, once we got our foothold in the Sphere."
Now that alarmed him. "Stillwell..."
"Calm down Commander," Soran Ibrahim frantically raised his hands in a gesture of reassurance, "Stillwell is nothing but a pit stop, en route to our real destination. I meant what I said yesterday about my reasons for being here: I heard that pirates were attacking, and I was just in the right place at the right time to ruin their day. Rest assured we have no grand plans for your town."
The man's reaction did ease Foley's concern at their sincerity, though he still kept a suspicious gaze at them.
"And where will this 'foothold' of yours be?"
"Honestly sir, that's classified," Ibrahim shrugged nonchalantly, then their gazes clashed. "Commander, I'm already telling you as much as I can without getting into trouble with my superiors, because you're suspicious of us as it is, and I want at least a level of working trust between us during our negotiations."
There was no fault in the man's reasoning at least, and Foley realized he had been treating this like an interrogation. Getting unbalanced by the events of the recent days should've been no excuse to exchange words in bad faith on the negotiating table.
"Very well, I will not pry." Foley relented, though he did have one more item in mind. "If you could humor my curiosity one more time.... what is Daybreak's Bell's ambition in the Inner Sphere?"
Soran Ibrahim put a hand on his chin, seemingly in thought, though his eyes held a sparkle that told him the man was doing it for his benefit.
"Our mission, Commander?" The young man smiled. "To bring light to the darkness of the thirty-first century, one corner at a time."
'The hubris of youth', Foley thought to himself, shaking his head in disbelief at the man's statement. The only thing keeping him from thinking it as Ibrahim's personal folly was that it was stated to be the mission of his organization as a whole. Whoever their superiors were, they looked to be as idealistic as the young man in front of him was.
In all honesty, he still had a ton of questions for the young man, but this was a negotiation first and foremost, and they were supposed to be here to settle on the terms of their transaction.
"My thanks, Mister Ibrahim." Foley turned to his aide. "Petty Officer, if you please."
The girl bolted up with that restless energy she had. "Yes sir! First I'll just list the value of all the scrap from yesterday..."
==========
After the Commander's aide started spouting of numbers and figures relating to yesterday's battle, I let out the breath I didn't know I held and slumped slightly on the rather comfy chair. I felt Ami's pat on my shoulder while giving me a brief glare, and whether through her Innovator abilities or me just being more attentive of such things in this reality, I got the meaning clear enough.
'Good job, we'll talk more about this later.'
I did kind of just spring that on her at the last moment. Well, explanations for later I guess.
I let my mind glaze over as I tuned out the words being exchanged now, only keeping an ear out to spot odd things that I did understand. This was Ami's battlefield now, as she traded facts, figures and appeals to emotion to get the best deal for us. I interjected a few times to clarify what we wanted, but otherwise Ami took the lead, and my mind resigned itself to not being able to catch up to what the tangle of numbers and legalese they were spewing out was saying.
The next hour felt like eternity, and I spent most of it mentally reviewing some stuff of varying relevancy, like how I knew the Ptolemy K2 (as I'm calling it now) had a docking rig for connecting to a JumpShip, that the ship was actually powered by its own original GN Drive (something the original ship didn't have), that I did see a meat pie pastry shop outside the airport (priority mission), and other important things.
Ultimately Ami was able to squeeze 1.9 million C-Bills (the 'universal' currency for this era) for the four mechs I took out; as it turns out, stabbing the
Shadowhawk's cockpit through with a beam saber actually raised its value due to the rest of the mech being intact. With that much dough we could finally begin getting more people out of cryo, not to mention having start-up capital for our little venture.
Overall it was a successful first negotiation in this reality, shorter than I thought it'd be, but no complaints there.
It was about the time that we were wrapping up the talks when a rather loud knock on the door interrupted us, and in came a trooper, who was clearly troubled and out of breath despite his attempts to stay calm, as he made to salute.
"Commander, urgent message from Lord-General Castor!"
The messenger handed over an envelope to the Petty Officer, who opened it, and read the message inside with an increasingly upset look.
"Oh no..."
"Report, Petty Officer," Commander Foley commanded, and his aide's face dropped even further at that.
"Sir, a Class-5 Hurricane has hit Thandor, and it's not expected to pass for another month."
I wasn't so sure what the importance of that was, but the mood in the entire room suddenly became deathly silent. I turned to Ami to see what she thought of it... and found her clasping her chest, her frozen expression as bad as the others in the room.
"Ami, what's wrong?!" I tried asking in a whisper, putting a hand on her shoulder unable to keep the worry out. Please don't be a heart attack or something like that!
However, she thankfully got out of her funk. "It's fine Sora, I just wasn't prepared for that," she replied weakly.
On the one hand, I sighed in relief as I realized it wasn't anything wrong with Ami at all, on the other hand I realized just how powerful the emotions around the entire room were for Ami to have looked so shocked still at the experience.
"So what is it?"
"It's like everyone's grieving, like they feel they've lost someone important."
"Someone died then?"
Ami shook her head. "There's more frustration in there, as if what happened just threw a wrench in their plans. And the Commander... he's taking this the hardest of all."
The Commander certainly didn't look like that from my perspective, looking as stone-faced as always, and yet Ami's senses never lied.
She steadied herself then, before she turned to look at the Petty Officer.
"Holly, what's wrong??" she asked worriedly.
The aide spoke in obvious distress. "The Commander's been trying to borrow a dropship from the Army so we can mount a rescue mission for the people who were taken, and the Lord-General promised to expedite our requests so we can get it within the week." She hugged the clipboard she was holding harder at that. "But with the war against Tarsonis going on the only dropship that can be spared was at Thandor."
"And with the storm there's no way they can fly it over," Ami concluded almost as sadly as everyone else in the room.
It all made sense now to me: Assuming the pirates arrived in-system yesterday on their JumpShip, they still had a week at minimum to charge their KF-Drives for another jump. Unfortunately the pirates were pretty much home free at this point, as the locals no longer had DropShips available to pursue them, and once they make their jump they could be pretty much anywhere. I could now understand why Ami felt much grief from them, since with this news the townspeople who were taken would pretty much dead to them now.
Yet the more I thought about it... the more I realized this was the opportunity I was waiting for, the itch in the back of my mind that's been nagging at me since yesterday when I first talked to the Commander. I knew nothing about these people, yet the moment I stepped into the fray they felt as much my responsibility as my own, thus hearing that the pirates had managed to get away with a couple dozen of them had been a blow. Like when I felt the urge to deliver the Valdez town residents back to their homes, the mission felt incomplete, unfinished.
Yet this wasn't a problem that could be solved with a Gundam, and unfortunately even if I, for some unthinkable reason, roped in Ami to help me try and rescue the hostages, none of us were foot soldiers ready to storm a JumpShip.
But now...
"Commander?" I called out loud for everyone in the room to hear, and everyone glared at me like I was this insensitive person who can't read the mood. Well, maybe I am usually.
"Yes, Mister Ibrahim?" the Commander tried to ask politely, but the suppressed growl he had was kinda obvious to me. I smirked at such a perfect moment to drop the bombshell.
"I got a dropship."
You could hear a pin drop as I smiled impishly.
"Would you like to borrow it?"
No Second Chances