Dropship Implacable, Heliopause, Unknown System
Former Apollo Province, Unclaimed Territory
January 30th, 3010
The jump out of Steelton was uneventful. I was thankful for that, because I had once again been totally incapacitated for something like nineteen hours afterward. At least this time, I'd known the vomiting was an inevitability and not eaten the day before. The cleanup crew were reportedly happy for my consideration as well.
I also hadn't missed much. A solar system was a big damn place, and it was mostly empty. That was usually the sort of intellectual consideration that didn't really matter to people. In most systems, people knew where they were going and all of the planets' locations had been thoroughly mapped and explored.
It was an important consideration when you didn't actually know where any planets might be hiding. The data we had on this solar system was extremely limited. We didn't know its name or even how many planets it had. All we had been able to do was take the information and hints we had and make conjectures. At one point, this system had been deep inside the borders of Apollo Province, the RWR government had apparently gone out of its way to conceal that anything was here at all, and SLIC had been here to investigate.
That pointed to a significant Black Site, which probably meant a planet rather than something floating in deep space.
So, rather than jump in at the more common zenith or nadir points, we popped in out on the rim, at the Heliopause, so that we could use modern visual sensors to detect any planets that might exist as they passed in front of their star.
That was old technology. Even back in the 21st-century, we had been able to visually detect planets around distant stars from earth. Doing it from the edge of the star system, even without a specialized space telescope, should've been much simpler. I didn't really realize until we got started just how much simpler it was going to be. On the second day, the computers had had enough time and data to detect and map the orbit of a small planet orbiting the main sequence K1 star near where Mercury's orbit was around Sol. The star, though hot for an Orange Dwarf, was marginally cooler than humanity's native sun. As a result, the planet was more like Venus than Mercury, but the fact that the navigational computers could crunch the math so quickly sort of blew my mind. Granted they'd had centuries to refine their programming over what had been available in my time, but it was still an impressive achievement.
Even more impressive, was the fact that Smitty's sensors and computers could find reflected light almost as easily. I hadn't internalized just how good they were, having fully expected to spend several weeks Jumping around the periphery of the system to find the data we needed. Then just after noon today, we got another hit.
"You're sure?" I asked, trying not to sound like a doubter.
From the look on Captain Tandles's face, I hadn't quite succeeded. "The computers are. They've had enough data points and time to chew on them, and it's right smack dab in the middle of the star's habitable zone," he explained. "If I were going to build a bunch of factories, I'd certainly rather have them on a habitable planet than either a lifeless rock or hanging around in space," he asserted.
Great minds think alike. He had a point, I was just accustomed to getting bad news instead of good news. Especially when it was important.
"It does sound like something we should check out," I acknowledged then frowned, trying to do the mental math. "We'll actually save time if we wait until the drive is recharged and jump closer before launching the Dropship, right?" I asked.
Tandles nodded. "Would be even if we were jumping to a standard jump point."
I shot him a surprised look at that and inclined an eyebrow.
He rolled his eyes and pointed back at the display. "Damn landlubbers. The planet's got a simple planetary system. Only two satellites. One of them is clearly artificial, and in a stable orbit. The other one might be natural, or something artificial that was damaged somewhere along the line. It has a more eccentric orbit, but it's still predictable. And they're both small. Much smaller than most moons as a fraction of the planet's mass. That means their gravity is low, which means they have almost no influence on the jump point between the planet and the star.
"I intend to make sure the jump computer has the time it needs to double check the calculations, but an apprentice navigator in his first month should be able to calculate a jump this easy."
That was good news. Decreased travel time meant lower fuel costs for transport, meant better profit margins. Also that we would almost have arrived in orbit by the time my jump sickness wore off, though that was something of a mixed blessing.
Then I frowned as something occurred to me, "That stable satellite. Is it possible that it's a pirate base?" I inquired. We were within one jump of Star's End which was a notorious pirate hang out the way Port Royal, Jamaica had been back on Earth.
"If it is, they don't have a ship in system. Or didn't. Light speed lag. First thing I looked for when we arrived was anything reflecting light at the standard jump points. Cameras say the pirate point we're looking to use is clear too," Tandles informed me.
That was one thing I could apparently cross off the list, at least. "Alright, thanks for the information. I'll go let the Dropship side know what's going on," I said then paused and turned back to face him. "Damn good job on this. I know it isn't what we've had you working on for the last decade."
"My boys and girls will appreciate the compliment," Captain Tandles stated with a nod before continuing, "And just because we've been playing merchantman for a decade doesn't mean we haven't been running drills. This was actually simple compared to some things I've put the crew through in the past."
"Well, the practice shows. They made this look easy, not just simple," I commented and made my way out of the compartment.
XXXXX
I made tracks for our Overlord, excitement steadily building at the thought of being the first person, or at least among the first, to see this particular alien planet in centuries.
I made good speed, which naturally meant that by the time I arrived everyone already knew what I was going to tell them. Gossip truly was the fastest known method of human communication, outstripping even HPGs.
"Man, this is like something out of Immortal Warrior!" Rowdy enthused. "A forgotten planet with a hidden regiment of mechs? So cool."
"I admit, I was sceptical, but the odds of the system we jumped to randomly having a planet in the middle of the star's habitable zone are … small," James admitted before taking a sip from his drink bulb.
Rowdy nodded. "I wonder if it was a cache like this that gave Wolf's Dragoons their start?" before either of us could answer, he jumped to another topic, "Hey, James, what sort of 'Mech would you want? I mean, assume the cache could have anything in it. What would you pick?"
James rolled his eyes and tried to defer, "You know it's likely that these were Rim Worlds Republic 'Mechs, right? There might be a few advanced machines, but most of those were probably sent to the Hegemony when Amaris launched his coup."
Rowdy, however, was not to be deterred. "Or this could be a Castle Brian that the Rimjobs gassed, or nuked, or something," he asserted. "C'mon, be honest. What's your dream 'Mech?"
I had to admit, I was curious too. "I suppose it would be a good thought exercise if nothing else," James said after a moment. "I would prefer to stick with something similar to my Panther's role, though better armor or mobility would be optimal. In that vein, a Catapult comes to mind as a fire support mech with jump jets, though the most similar variant to a Panther would be the -K2 variant. Assuming that the sky was the limit, I would prefer to have it modified to return the jump jets. Inclusion of Star League heat dissipation systems should make that possible.
He frowned for a moment in consideration, "It is both ironic and slightly distasteful that the Combine builds BattleMechs that fit so well with my preferences." Even Rowdy knew not to poke that particular hornets' nest, so it was a relief to both of us when James turned to me and inquired, "And you, Alistair? What would you hope to find?"
"An intact, fully automated Assault 'Mech line," I shot back. James just stared at me, but Phillip snickered. "Tough crowd," I said to buy time and leaned back.
My experience, such as it was and what there was of it, was as a Striker. I was pretty decent at it, even if my gunnery could use some work, but a Commander didn't belong in a light, fast machine like that unless his entire force was light and fast.
"Couple answers there. If it was just me as a pilot, I'd be fine sticking with a Striker. Maybe something like a Kintaro. I mean, a trio of SRM-6s and a pair of MLs? Hefty punch in close, and some freezers to keep the heat under control would silence most of the complaints about the design.
"On the other hand, unless we're gonna run a Light Horse outfit, a Regimental commander belongs somewhere other than leading cavalry charges. In that case … gotta go with a Cyclops." It was a classic choice, but classics were classic for a reason and the hardware built into the Assault 'Mech's cockpit was legendary. Also for a reason. "If there really is a Regiment of mechs, that's the sort of 'Mech I'd want to manage a battlefield."
"And that fuck-off autocannon doesn't hurt either, right?" Rowdy immediately jumped on the heavy ordinance.
"It's a capable weapon, but the range leaves something to be desired," James opined. "There used to be a variant of the Cyclops that mounted a Gauss rifle. Outside of storming that Castle Brian you mentioned, a longer-range weapon would probably be more useful on a relatively slow Mech."
"Plus, a commander's job is to command. If he's down to firing his own AC-20 the situation has gone entirely to hell," I interjected.
Rowdy immediately squawked his opposition to that idea, "What? But what if we need you to take down the enemy commander in a duel?"
James immediately moved to cut him off at the knees. "You watch too many action 'vids," he accused. "That sort of thing almost never happens in real life," he declared dismissively.
"What about Ian Davion? The only reason the Fourth Guards were able to get out of that trap was because he and his Command Lance stayed as a rear guard."
"You'll also note that they died to the last man," James shot back, puncturing and sense of momentum Rowdy had been building.
"And it was a mess. Prince Ian didn't have any kids, so the title passed to his brother. Who was also a combat commander. What would have happened if he'd been killed in action before he got the word?" Seemingly delighting in pouring fuel on the fire, Melody immediately jumped in on Jimmy's side and Rowdy frowned at the pink-haired twin as she continued, "I'll tell you what would have happened, there'd have been another War of Davion Succession with a civil war to top it off!"
Marsha, with an unusual lack of aggression, was dragged into the conversation as well. "That … might not have been the best example, but what about Natasha Kerensky? Even if she was commanding a Battalion, I'd still want her in the fight. She's worth a Lance all by herself," the blonde twin asserted.
I leaned back in my seat as the debate raged on. This was … nice. I'd lived a pretty solitary life before I'd been dropped here. Partly that was by choice, but part of it had also been that I didn't get people. I could predict an institution or a bureaucracy like nobody's business, partially because all I had to do was think of the dumbest possible course of action and I had at least a sixty percent chance of being right. In comparison, trying to have a conversation with a peer had been painfully awkward most of the time.
Local me, Alistair, had ended up in the same position by a different route. He'd been the boss's kid, and subject to either sucking up or wariness much of the time as a result. Ironically, as just 'the boss' I was being treated more as one of the guys than he had been as a fellow Mechwarrior.
Both sides of me were content to snipe tactically at whichever side of the argument looked to be building too much of a head of steam and just enjoy belonging for a bit.
XXXXX
Dropship Implacable, Heliopause, Unknown System
Former Apollo Province, Unclaimed Territory
February 2nd, 3010
I could really get sick of TDS. We'd made our jump as scheduled on the first of the month. With being so far out-system, we'd had to charge the drive off of a trickle of power from Smitty's reactor instead of just using solar energy, but the jump had gone as predicted. I was also feeling marginally better than last time.
Partially that was because of the maximum recommended dose of dralaxine I'd gotten before the jump. Mostly, it was because sickbay was becoming accustomed to the routine. An IV had made sure I didn't dehydrate or end up with the beginning of metabolic alkalosis like I had the first time, and an antiemetic meant I'd only actually thrown up twice, though my poor abused brain simply declined to function within eight hours after the jump.
As a result, I was only incapacitated for about fourteen hours this time. That still meant that by the time I was fit for duty, our Overlord was decelerating to link up with the damaged orbital facility around the planet.
"Anything stand out?" I asked as I seated myself. Under 1G of thrust, it was pretty easy to move about the dropship.
Captain Chapman gave me a distracted handwave by way of greeting. "About the planet or the station?" she inquired, still paying most of her attention to her readouts.
"Well, I was asking about the planet, but I'll take whatever you've got," I responded.
The Implacable's graying Captain shot a quick glance around her bridge before she spoke, "All we can tell about the planet right now is that gravity is going to be higher than standard. Significantly so, unless it's much less dense than average for some reason. Best guess for the moment is somewhere around 1.25G."
I winced. Weighing a quarter again what we and, more importantly, our 'Mechs usually did would have a damn long adjustment period. Mechs were built to function in a wide variety of locations, but that much extra weight would have consequences. The least of which was extra maintenance for effectively fielding 'overweight' platforms. "That's going to suck," I stated mildly, much of my focus still considering options.
"I don't particularly like the thought of what it's going to do to the old lady here either," Haley said and gave the arm of her station a pat. "On the other hand, that's why military hardware is overbuilt. It'll put extra strain on the frames, but they'll take the abuse. Good luck getting a civilian vehicle to work straight off the dropship with such a big environmental change."
I nodded. The biggest headache would be retraining to get used to the different speeds we'd be getting out of our usual throttle settings. That and acclimating so as to avoid falls. A fall on even level ground could do considerable armor damage under increased gravity. On the other hand, there wasn't much I could do about it.
"What about the station?" I asked, shifting gears.
"Looks like it used to be pretty heavily armed and armored. Somebody sure beat the hell out of it somewhere along the line, though," she explained. "One whole sector is basically denuded of armor. Big-damn crater, so either it got hit by a couple small nukes or hammered by warship-grade weapons.
She leaned back in her seat and shrugged. "Honestly, it doesn't look like the sort of hit that would kill a big station like that. With an industrialized planet right there," she waved towards the blue-green ball already visible on-screen in the distance and only growing larger with time, "they ought to have been able to make repairs. Except they didn't. Might support the theory that they couldn't for some reason," she concluded knowingly.
"Like they'd used some sort of chemical weapon to deny it to the other side," I added.
"Or something. Seems to fit, anyway," she concluded with a shrug before switching gears.
"Be a bit yet before we're ready to slip into orbit. Long as you promise not be be a disruptive influence, you can wait here."
"Captain, I do believe that I shall take you up on that."
XXXXX
The sudden silence woke me, and I realized that I'd drifted off despite the noise on the bridge. I sheepishly glanced around only to find Captain Chapman grinning at me knowingly. "Ah, sorry about that," I began, embarrassed, but the Captain waved me off.
"Don't worry about it. TDS can really wear a person down," she said. "You're just lucky you don't snore, or I'd have thrown you out anyway."
I grinned at the joke, "So we've arrived then," I stated the blindingly obvious. In my defense, I wasn't quite awake yet. I was about to ask if there had been any problems, but even I probably couldn't have slept through a bridge alarm, teenager again or not.
Instead I inquired, "Any new information about the station now that we're closer?"
"Not really," she responded, "We're going to have to send some people over there to take a look."
That had me perking up. I'd never really wanted to be an astronaut, but going EVA would be pretty co-
"Thankfully, I grabbed a couple of Smitty's people who have experience with exterior maintenance in vacuum. The last thing we need is a bunch of inexperienced neophytes traipsing all over the place."
On the one hand, it's good to know she's well prepared and has got this under control. On the other hand, what sort of self-respecting video game makes the main character sit on the sidelines when there's a derelict station to explore and loot?
She wasn't wrong about the issues with sending an FNG out into death pressure though, so I kept my peace and sat back to watch.
XXXXX
Sam Jones had a moment of irritation as a bead of perspiration slid down his forehead where the absorbent pad he wore didn't quite cover. Thankfully, this time it missed his left eye, but it was still a source of irritation for him. At least he was past the stage of banging a glove off of his helmet trying to wipe his forehead through the transparent faceplate.
Finally he managed to secure his side of the portable airlock the exterior hull maintenance crew had brought with them. Getting it hauled across the gap from the dropship and then set up in a likely looking section of corridor without ruining it on any of the jagged edges created by the damage the station had taken had been a non-trivial task. A moment later, Deric, the senior tech, got his side locked down as well. That was the easy part finished, at least.
"-everything locked down. We're ready to start setting up the APU," his supervisor reported. The auxiliary power unit ought to produce enough electricity to operate the blast doors. That was half the reason they'd had to set up the airlock. Finagling a blast door to open a pressurized compartment to vacuum was possible, but that didn't make it a good idea.
And readings indicated there was, in fact, still pressure in the sealed sections of the station. Shit in the Star League had been built to last if nothing else, though the lack of power probably meant that the life support system would need work before the air could be rendered breathable again.
That was the other reason to set up the airlock. In an emergency, there was at least a small chance you could make it inside and run the pressure up in time to survive a suit breach. If it was small. And you were lucky.
At least their radiation detectors had kept to the usual sort of background buzz. Whatever had cratered the armor and exposed a compartment and a couple sections of corridor had been clean enough for a couple centuries to have done away with that particular hazard.
A few minutes further work had the door's access panel popped open and the APU wired in. A button-press later, and they had their answer. The doors cracked open and then retracted into the wall. The inner door made it all the way, but the outer door jammed just over halfway to closed. Outer hull must've buckled when the nukes hit.
The atmosphere inside, however, returned surprising information when they tested it. "Ma'am, got no reaction on the test strips. That ought to mean a Nitrogen or Argon atmosphere," he reported back to the Captain. There were tests that could tell the difference, but they were expensive. From his perspective, it didn't matter anyway. Either way, if his suit got too big a tear, he was dead.
"Confirmed. Non Reactive atmosphere. Mission remains the same. Try to see if there's anything indicating how to get to engineering," Captain Chapman replied promptly.
"Copy that. Nothing so far," Deric acknowledged. The blast door had been protecting another section of corridor. Sam could see the slight curve that meant it ran along the outermost section of the station. There was also the occasional length of pipe crossing at the top of the corridor or passing out of the bulkheads. Probably made it a maintenance corridor.
The way the light refracted slightly took some of the tension out of his shoulders. In vacuum, light stayed just the narrow cone of the lamp. Without atmosphere it couldn't diffuse the way it could in atmosphere. If nothing else, it would help avoid snags by making obstacles more obvious.
As Deric stopped to slap the first repeater to the wall, Sam caught a flash of color out of the corner of his eye. Turning his own lights on the area, he moved forward a few steps, then keyed his microphone. "Can confirm this was a Rimjob station. Unless you know why the Star League would have a shark decal on a warning sign."
"Probably a fair guess. Good eye," and that was The Boss, not just the Implacable's Captain, which was bad enough. How the hell were you supposed to talk to a man two years younger than you who owned more C-Bills worth of hardware than the worth of the whole city you'd grown up in?
"Well, if I didn't have good vision, I'd still be on the Smitty and somebody else would be poking around this hulk." Apparently he still defaulted to being a smartass under stress. Shit. I am so fucking dea-
A bark of laughter cut him off, "Well, I'm glad you're having fun over there. Keep up the good work."
On the one hand, Sam was relieved he hadn't pissed off the guy who issued his pay. On the other, it was plain unnatural for an eighteen year old to be that comfortable in his own skin. And on the other other hand, he'd killed three Drac BattleMechs back on Icar and crippled another before the wonder twins killed it. Sam had never been as 'Mech crazy as some of his friends and classmates, but he wasn't ignorant. He worked for a Mercenary company, even if he was in JumpShips, rather than a real combat arm. Taking a pair of Locusts wasn't too impressive. They were, after all, Locusts. Doing it at the same time with a Mech only a few tons heavier than either of them was regarded by his fellow crewmen as rather more impressive.
Taking a Panther on right afterwards? A 'Mech ten tons heavier with a pilot who'd just finished killing the young man's own father? That was more impressive. The fact that he'd done it without taking more than some armor damage was really eye-opening.
The whole company had seen the Battlerom by now, and the way he calmly took down the two bugmechs before crippling the Panther's arm, then cutting it down had been impressive. And, having grown up on Icar, it had been nice to see the damn Combine losing a Company of mechs to a pair of Lances.
Sam shook off his thoughts and then stumbled forward a step. Deric, standing behind him had cuffed him lightly on the back of the helmet. "Your mouth is gonna get you killed some day, Rookie."
Sam was usually inclined to bravado, but he'd just used up most of his luck for the day by being a smartass. "Yeah, maybe," he deferred, "But the Boss seened cool with it."
"Yeah, well you ain't gonna have to worry about the boss if I stuff you in a compartment and leave your ass there. Now if you're done pattin' yourself on the back, can we maybe get a move on?"
After a moment's thought, Sam decided he didn't need the last word when his supervisor was already annoyed with him, so he just took point as directed.
Most people would probably have found the corridor eerie. Sam was used to hanging onto the side of a JumpShip so far from the nearest planet that he couldn't have pointed to it even if he'd known where it was. After that, most anything was-
Sam jumped and gasped as the body abruptly entered his cone of vision.
He'd been following the curve in the corridor for a couple minutes, but he hadn't noticed the T junction due to the way several pipes turned into the bulkhead just before it and the general darkness of the station. It had also concealed the floating corpse until he was practically on top of it.
Sam looked away and swallowed, he really didn't want to puke in his damn helmet, but rot had definitely had time to set in before the nitrogen or whatever had stopped the process.
"Jesus!" Deric called out over the short-range frequency the pair of them were using. "Fuck, that's creepy," he commented before switching to the repeaters.
"Ma'am found a dead crewman. Looks like a maintenance worker," he reported.
"Acknowledged, any idea what killed him?" Came the reply.
"No idea, but whatever it was practically cut him in half. Don't see any damage to the walls, but without gravity who knows how far he drifted."
"Noted," was the only reply.
"Man, that's just gross," Deric said as he transitioned back to the local channel.
A sweep of the wall with his light brought a frown to Sam's face. "Unfortunately, I think we're gonna be seeing a lot of him for the next couple days," illuminated on the wall was the word 'Engineering' with an arrow pointing towards the center of the station.