Remembrance Pt 1

Back from real life with a multi-part story.

Pirate Point 116C-72G
Index Masked
Timestamp Masked

The blond-haired man gazed over his Dire Wolf’s panels to stare at the desolate planet.  The surface was marred with asteroidal impacts and the occasional failed colonist’s dead structures, dessicated and left to rot.  The wasted  surface was pockmarked with former signs of activity, but no sign of his query.

“Star Commander,” the speakers in his cockpit echoed.  “We are unable to locate the lost ’Mechs on this planet.”

The reply was stony, “Then we will scour every miserable planet in the area.  We will leave the cities of these Inner Sphere freebirth in flames until I am able to locate the members of our lost star.  Failing that, we must endeavor to retrieve their BattleMechs and at least attempt to keep our presence in this sector quiet.”  He punctuated each word deliberately, almost dramatically.

“Yes, sir.  For honor, and for our Remembrance.”

1st Company BattleMech Bay
Purvo, Capellan Confederation
3rd January, 3050

Things had become a bit frenzied as of late in Purvo’s capital city of Vientiane.

Zhong-Shao Zvolimir the Blackhand had been redoubling his efforts to shape the Gatekeepers to an ideal and deadly dual purpose.  Firstly, to turn seasoned MechWarriors into a well-oiled war-machine, ready to fight loyally in defense of the Capellan Confederation.  His second desire was to create the political and military bastion with which the Capellans could protect itself against the ever encroaching Davion menace.

Company practice as of late had been more demanding on the MechWarriors of the Gatekeepers Battalion, emphasizing the need for absolute, unquestioning fealty to the unit.  The demand to his Gatekeepers was great, and the Zhong-Shao knew it would take his company to task.  Unflinchingly, he looked into the MechBay, sizing up the crew toiling within.  Ever aware that the unit within was able, perhaps even all too happy to take on this mission set before them.

Hand-picked and battle-hardened, the Gatekeepers stood at the ready to prove their loyalty to the Celestial Throne.  The need for this loyalty only became more apparent as the company drilled tactics that would lead only the bravest, most single-minded battalions to victory.  Once drilled, and committed to heart victory was guaranteed.  With the continued defense of Purvo, the battalion’s charge on the fringe of the confederation, they were the Cháng-Chéng – a great wall against the Davion horde.

The emphasis on the new tactics, both exo- and intramecha were evident even in the Gatekeepers’ MechBays, where notes scribbled in a mish-mash of Min and shorthand contained reminders of when to push and when to retreat, and the best ways to reconfigure one’s favorite ‘Mech to fit the company’s strategies.  The smell of grease and super-heated metal hung in an oily cloud around the area, and the whirrs and crackling noise of welding could be heard in the background where the astechs toiled.  A clamor of scrap metal being thrown to one side could also be heard amidst the din of normal work.

A shrill whistle was issued from a loose pile of slagged metal, “Hey gear heads: one of you double time, and help me move this actuator!”  A head poked up from the pile of salvage at the back of the hangar.  The man shouted, and motioned to the nearest available workmen to take care of the wayward ton of metal.  Pulling out a rag to mop his brow of grease and sweat he looked over his glasses to watch as the hefty mass of servos, gyros, wires and steel was lifted away by a LoaderMech. Ken looked to see if something hidden underneath it was waiting to make his personal attention worthwhile.  Though Ken “Archangel” Blackwood always found a certain amount of gratification being hands on with salvage, mundane or not.

Staring fixedly at the scrap, Ken brushed his dark brown hair away from his eyes.  It was impossible to get a true appreciation for the megalithic machines until you took one apart…crudely, to be sure –  but in the right pieces it would prove a necessary boon to the Capellans.  Especially on a planet like Purvo, where the manufacturing centers, mech factories, and industrial infrastructure was all few and far between.  As Salvage Specialist, Ken had the important job of ensuring the company was flush with parts, or in the cases of heavily damaged salvage, c-bills from the slagged components.

In truth, he loved technology.  Ken as a much younger man had first been desirous of being an Astech himself, but was swayed to a more hands-on profession after training to be a MechWarrior.  Realizing how thrilling the hunt was dissuaded him from a more peaceful existence.

Out of the corner of his eye he noticed a comely female astech, staring at him and chewing on her lower lip.  The attention that came with being a MechWarrior didn’t exactly deter him either Ken was nothing, if not a pragmatist.  He’d have to get her name later.  The hunt didn’t end on tthe battlefield, and Ken was nothing, if not pragmatic.

“Sang-Wei Blackwood,”  A gruff voice fired off behind him, giving Ken enough of a start to cause the scrap of blasted metal to fall from his gloved hands, and clatter to the ground.  “Have you the salvage list I requested?”  The Zhong-Shao stood behind Ken, robotic hand waiting, outstretched.

Something about his demeanor told Ken this was more of a demand than a request, “Ah. Of course, boss,” Ken gave his characteristic cocked grin, maintaining his usual friendly-yet-reserved tone.  He offered a datapad and stylus for Zvolimir’s review. “Good haul this time.”

“I’m glad to hear,” Zvolimir replied evenly.  “I’m to report to the planetary brass to let them gauge our battle-readiness for a coming mission. I’m sure they will be happy to know our supplies are well in hand.  Are you in the middle of anything important?”

“No, sir.” Ken replied, pulling the rag he had been using for his face to wipe grease from his bare fingertips.

“I have an assignment for you I think you are suited for.  Get cleaned up and meet me at Central.”

“Roger, Zhong-Shao.” Ken snapped to a stiff salute before returning to his quarters, his boots resounding sharply against the concrete floor as he left.