Hassad, Free Worlds League
29 January 3040

"What the hell is *this*?" Jared yelled at his brother, waving
the printout in his face.

Scott returned his gaze serenely. "It`s exactly what it looks
like. I`m resigning my commission and leaving on the next ship to
Outreach."

Jared stared, stunned by the calm way Scott had announced the
revocation of his life`s work and betrayal of his family obligations.
Sputtering inanely for the few moments he tried to phrase his next
query, Jared gave up and just spit it out "*WHY?*"

Scott replied in the annoyingly calm manner he had assumed
over the last three weeks. "Because I feel that the Mariks are wrong
to force the Andureans to rejoin the League."

Appalled, Jared blurted out "That`s *treason!*"

Scott shrugged. "Is it? I don`t think so, but I know that I
can`t stay here any longer. I have no desire to be shot, so I plan to
head for the closest thing to a free system in the Inner Sphere."

"You`re going to sell out to the Fedrats?!"

Scott shook his head. "Of course not. I`m not sure what I`ll
do, but I`m sure a former regimental commander in the Free Worlds
League Militia can find work easily enough. Of course, I don`t
nessesarily have to pilot a `Mech"

Jared blinked. Scott Harris was probably one of the fifty best
Mechwarriors in the Inner Sphere, and the Harris family had protected
the Free Worlds League almost since it`s inception. His whole life
revolved around his unit, his reputation, and his family`s honor. To
turn his back on all this was not only unthinkable, it was
*impossible*. Forcing himself to match his brother`s calm tone, he
inquired "May I ask why?"

A change came over Scott`s expression. At the same time he
seemed more serious, yet he seemed happier than Jared could ever
recall seeing him. "I`ve come to realize that I hate killing people on
other people`s demands, for no better reason that some bigshot wants
to rule more people or just show what a great guy he is. Not only is
it ultimately pointless, it isn`t what I really want to do with my
life."

"What`s come over you? You *used* to like your job..."

Scott interrupted. "No. I`m *good* at my job,  I`ve done it
for a long time, and piloting `Mechs is a blast - but I never really
*enjoyed* it. I took satisfaction in my skill, and I didn`t mind
blowing away pirates and other scumballs, but invasions and
suppressions never really floated my boat."

Jared threw his arms in the air angrily. "It`s that
weird-assed cult you joined. They`ve brainwashed you."

Scott tilted his head to one side fractionally as he
considered this. "Well, since to the best of my knowledge I`m the only
person on this planet who has ever heard of them, I think most of the
tenants are the joke they are designed to be, and I haven`t sent in my
membership fee, I`d hardly say I`ve `joined`. However, I`ll agree that
what I`ve read lately has affected me - to the better, I`d think."

Deep in his mind, a small part of Jared agreed. His older
brother has always been a little odd, which had caused no end to
problems when he was younger. As he aged his intelligence and
competence had overcome whatever lack of social graces he displayed,
and he could conform to societal norms if he needed to, but Scott had
always been happier by himself, puttering around with his `Mech,
satisfying a voracious reading habit, or hanging out with his few
friends. Scott got along well enough, and had a wicked sense of humor,
but he had never seemed *happy*, until a few weeks ago.

However, Jared was not about to let his brother throw away his
life without a fight. He grabbed a largish book from the cluttered
desk and waved it around. A man`s head, wearing a goofy grin and
smoking a pipe adorned the front cover. "So you`re going to turn your
back on your career and your family because of what you read in a
thousand year old book written by some science fiction writer with
delusions of grandear?! It`s ridiculous - aliens coming to Terra to
save a small group from within the teeming masses, some freakish
saleman with good luck, and some crap about `The Conspiracy`. You
don`t actually *believe* this garbage, do you?!"

"Perhaps I do, perhaps I don`t." Seeing his brother about to
explode, Scott explained. "Sure, if I believed everything in that
work, I`d probably have taken the same path I`m about to, but even if
I don`t believe, *it doesn`t matter*. That work contains a simple
truth that so many people have heard but so few understand - if you
aren`t enjoying life, what`s the point? I don`t enjoy life, even
though I live better than 99% of the population of the Inner Sphere,
but I`ll gladly take a pay cut if I can have more fun. I find that I
can`t tolerate taking order from or interact with imbeciles any
longer. There are too many inbred, overpromoted jackasses in the
command structure of the FWLM, so I`m going to make a new start
somewhere else, where I can choose my companions. They may be smarter
or dumber than me, but as long as I can deal with competent people who
I enjoy being with, I`ll be happy. Perhaps I`ll end up in a mercenary
company, perhaps I`ll work in a bookstore. Right now, that doesn`t
matter."

"But why are you leaving the League?! Can`t you do the same
kind of thing here?"

"Possibly - but I`m more likely to find free thinking people
on Outreach."

"So you`re going to abandon your family, just like that."

Scott looked at Jared with a lot less humor in his expression.
"I love you, brother, and I love the rest of our family, but I`m not
going to fit myself into a little mold labeled `Scott Harris, FWL
MechWarrior`, not any longer. If the rest of you can`t understand
that, I`m sorry, but it`s time I lived my life in order to make *me*
happy instead of being miserable to satisfy everyone else."

Confusion, anger, and sadness fought a three way battle on
Jared`s face. "I can`t agree with you. The League has been good to our
family, and we owe it our loyalty."

Scott smiled and nodded. "I knew you`d say something like
that, because you *enjoy* being a Mechwarrior for House Marik. You
have to follow the path that you find right - as do I." He stood up
and embraced his brother roughly, suprising the younger Harris.
"Hopefully I`ll see you again someday, and I hope you find the joy in
service to Marik that I cannot." Releasing his brother, Scott picked
up a duffel set by the door. "And, since you`re here, you can give me
a lift to the spaceport so I can book a flight. I already gave Eddie
my car, but I can always take a cab if you`re busy..."

Jared shook his head violently. "Uh uh. I`ll drive you
alright, so I can try to pound some sense into your head on the way
there."

Irain, Free Worlds League
15 July 3062

"Come in Force Commander, the General will be with you
shortly."

Jared Harris sat nevously in the worn leather chair the
Leutenant guided him into, fingering the freshly minted rank insignia
decorating the left pocket of his uniform. The small bar mounted over
the two larger bars he had worn as a Captain seemed out of place, as
though someone would come in at any moment and see him as a fraud,
unworthy of his elevation.

Harris jumped as a door slammed behind him. Chewing his
signature bubble gum, General Samuel Garibalidi collapsed into his
chair with a groan. "Hang on a second, son." the grizzled warrior
muttered while he massaged his forehead, eyes tightly shut behind his
thick glasses. Opening them, the officer gazed at the fidgeting
MechWarrior. "A piece of advice, son. When you make it to general,
don't let them stick you with sixteen regiments and the staff to deal
with five of them."

Stretching, the general continued to keep his eyes locked on
the nervous Force Commander. "Let me get right to the point. The
League has been at peace basically since the end of the Andurean
conflict, with the exception of Operation Guerrero. That peace is now
threatened."

Harris internally added the Zion revolt, the FWLM
participation in Operation Bulldog, and the worrisome increase in
piracy on the Periphery border, but he understood his general's point
- the Free Worlds League had been remarkably untouched by external
agression for the last twenty years.

General Garibalidi continued. "What's your read on the Cappie
situation, commander?"

Carefully, Harris answered. "House Laio was our ally against
the Federated Commonwealth during Operation Guerro, and their war with
the St. Ives Compact does not concern us. Our border has been at peace
since the signing of the Concord of Kapteyn, and there are no sources
of confict between us."

Garibalidi snorted. "And of course they love us with all thier
hearts. In case you didn't notice, a lot of troops have been moving
that way since Chancellor Liao expelled the Captain-General's
daughter. In case it *also* escaped your attention, Archon Princess
Stiener is not fufilling her treaty with the Compact. And finally, you
might note that, with the breaking of his engagement, Sun-Tzu Liao and
Katrina Stiener are both single."

Harris leaned back in his chair, inhaling with a hiss. The
Federated Sun and the Capellan Confederation had nearly merged before
the founding of the Star League, the deal falling through due to
Chancellor Salicia Laio's severe lack of desire to wed Terril Davion.
A unification of the Lyran Alliance, Federated Commonwealth and
Capellan Confederation would leave the League with a single superstate
along thier entire inner border - along with much of the Periphery,
with the Capellan/Magestrix Alliance. When the Draconis Combine had
faced a similar situation, they lost over fifty worlds - and this
while the Federated Suns was busy pummeling the CapComs. The armed
forces of the three star nations totaled almost 200 'Mech regiments,
against which the Free Worlds League could muster 73.

The League would not survive long against such a foe.

Garibalidi toggled a switch on his desk. A holograph of a
glazed cup covered in Chinese ideograms sprang to life, and began
rotating between the men. "Terril Davion sent this cup to Salicia Laio
when he made his marriage proposal in 2548, along with a note:
'Together we can heal the wounds our people have suffered, and ensure
that they are never threatened again. Drink from this gift, and let us
become as one.' Luckily she turned him down, or there might not be a
Free Worlds League today." Another flick, and the holograph vanished.
"Normally there wouldn't be a chance in hell that the populations of
either nation would accept a marriage like the one that united the
Federated Commonwealth to begin with, but two events make this
possible."

"First,  the Archon Princess is already poised to strike
against Pro-Victor resistance in the Capellan March. Any revolts
caused by an engagment would doubtlessly be suppressed, and Stiener
seems to have much greater control over the media than has been
exercised in the Federated Commonwealth before. If she wants to marry
Sun Tzu Liao, she can get away with it.

"The thought of marrying the spawn of Hanse Davion would be
enough to trigger riots throughout the Capellan Confederation, but
with this Xin Sheng renewal movement coursing through the
Confederation, Liao could bring it off by pointing to the historical
parallels. Our CapCon desk over at SAFE figures that if he sends that
cup to Katrina Stiener, he can convince his people that not only is he
continuing the policies of one of the greatest Chancellors in Capellan
history, he is doing so from a position of strength."

The League General leaned back in his chair once again.
"Fortunately for us, the cup was stolen along with a couple hundred
other Liao family artifacts from Sian in 3047. *Unfortunately*, Laio
has had teams trying to find the items for the last three years, and
he may have finally succeeded. We don't know if he wants the stash for
general historical reasons, or if he wants the cup in particular, but
in any case, we need to stop him." He pulled a photograph from a
drawer and handed it over. "Lin Cho Park, an ex-Mask agent. He
currently owns and runs a bar on Outreach. SAFE has an agent inside
the Mask, and the embassy on Outreach reported that this man knows
where the artifacts are hidden. Apparently he is currently looking for
a mercenary unit to help him retrieve them, but Sian is apparently
sending a senior Mask agent to... persuade Park to hand them over." He
next handed over a thick envelope. "We're sending you and the rest of
your company to Outreach. You're to do everything in your power to
bring that cup back to Atreus. The Captain-General wants it, and he
wants it *bad* - presumably he still wants to marry his daughter off
to Sun Tzu."

Harris privately doubted it. Thomas Marik had delayed the
wedding for almost a decade, and if a tenth of what the scandalvids
were reported was true, the next time she saw him she would stick a
vibroblade in his ribs. "We're to pose as mercs?"

"Exactly. Your Dropship boosts out in five hours, and we have
a command circuit set up all the way to Outreach." The revalation of
the latter told Harris just how serious the Captain-General was taking
this threat. "Your record states that you've taken vacation there
twice, and we have no one else with *any* knowledge of Outreach
available on such short notice." The general's eyes narrowed. "If you
aren't hired, your unit is to follow Park to any world in the League
or the Chaos March and take whatever steps are necessary to retrieve
that cup. The future of the Free Worlds League is in your hands."

****

Jared Harris' eyes swam as the Merchant-class JumpShip *Rim
Skimmer* materialized in the Outreach system. Almost before his head
cleared the *Christopherson* seperated and began to burn it's way
toward the planet that gave the stellar system it's name. The ensign
manning one of the consoles let out a whistle. "Wow - *look* at all
the traffic! It's almost as much as we get at Atreus."

The DropShip's captain came up behind the sensor operator and
placed her hands on his shoulders. "Good, McEsten. That means you can
run a tracking drill. Let's see how fast you can identify the ships in
the area without going activeor querying thier IFFs."

Rising to the challenge, the young officer began to match the
profiles of the ships in range of his passive sensors against the
database. "I have seven JumpShips waiting at the Jump Point: two
*Scout*-class, one *Merchant*, two *Invaders*, one *Tramp*, and a
*Star Lord*. Eleven DropShips are in transit or docked with the
JumpShips: two *Leopards*, an *Intruder*, two *Buccaneers*, two
*Unions*, a *Seeker*, a *Triumph*, and a pair of *Mules*. I'm seeing
if any of these have signatures in the system." A flurry of commands
earned him an irate beep from the console. "One of the *Merchants* is
the Stiener AgriCombine Incorporated vessel *Tastes Like Chicken*. The
*Triumph*-class is the *Toil and Tears*, registered to the mercenary
unit Limey Bastards. One of the *Unions* is reading as the *Stark
Fist*, belonging to Harris' Humdingers, while the other is the *Valley
Child*, owned by...."

The rest of the ensign's report faded out when Harris heard
the name of the first *Union*-class DropShip. "Captain, would it be
possible to get a comlink with the *Stark Fist*?

The vessel's commander looked at the MechWarrior quizzically.
"May I ask why?"

"My brother is on it."

****

The man who had been Jared Harris sat with his back to the
wall, slowly nursing his beer. Instead of his proud FWLM uniform, he
wore a rumpled jumpsuit covered with pockets. A brand new patch
proclaimed him as a member of Heavy Metal, a freshly minted mercenary
unit. His brother had been vastly amused to see him posing as a merc
on a "critical but sensitive mission for House Marik", but he had
agreed to keep silent on Jared's true nature when he had picked
Scott's brain for advice.

While his sunglasses appeared to be focused on the doorway,
his eyes were elsewhere, locked on the man tending bar. He was
chatting with one of his patrons, his 40-ish face split by a grin. It
was impossible to tell by looking at him that he had been a senior
agent for the Special Services Branch of the Capellan Maskirovka. The
details of his retirement has been...vauge, and SAFE apparently wasn't
willing to risk thier assets in the Laio space to aquire more
information. "Jared Mountenbank" planned on telling Park that he had
heard of his search for a mercenary company, and was willing to take
the assignment cheap. His story would be that his unit had sufficent
capital for the time being, but wanted a few successful contracts
under thier belt to drive thier Dragoon Rating up, making further
missions more profitable.

He was holding off on approaching Park, however, because he
knew who had landed at the spaceport three hours ago. According to the
broadcasts from the tiny radio in his ear, that person should be
walking in the door right about....now.

As predicted, the door opened, the sunlight streaming through
the opening drawing eyes from across the bar. Two things immediately
made the man who walked through the doorway stand out. First, the
contempt in his gaze as he looked over the bar's patrons bespoke of a
person who was used to a nice, orderly existence - and ruthlessly
crushing those things that did not meet his standards.

Second, he was followed by a half dozen large men who were
obviously bodyguards.

Glancing at the data pad in his hand, the new arrival let his
eyes roam across the bar until they locked on his target. Walking to
the bar, he stood and waited to be recognized.

If he was hoping for a swift reaction on the part of the
bartender, he was dissapointed. Although Park had obviously noticed
the newcomer's arrival, he continued his conversation with his
customer. Chuckling over the latest witticism utttered by the woman,
he turned to the bar and began to fix her a drink. The business-suited
man began to flush as he was ignored. As Park moved on to another
customer, he exploded. "Excuse me!"

Glancing over his shoulder, the bartender returned the firey
gaze cooly. "I'll be with you in a moment - first come, first serve."

"I haven't come here for a drink!"

Eyebrows raised, Park replied. "Sorry, we don't have a public
restroom. Try the Sashimi Palace three doors down."

"I've come to speak to *you*, Lin Cho Park!"

"Well, I'm happy with my current phone service, I don't feel
like switching." The sheer *normalcy* of his tone was at odds with the
amusement in his eyes.

"I've come at the behest of Chancellor Sun Tzu Liao!"

What little conversation had survived the brewing
confrontation died. The only people not shocked by this announcement
were Jared Harris - and Lin Cho Park, who responded with a shrug. "So?
I'm no longer a Capellan citizen."

Stunned by this response, the Confederation agent tried
another tack. "Word has reached us that you have located the person
responsible for the Grant Center Breakin."

"Yup."

His eyes alight, the man leaned over the bar. "*Where is he*?"

In reply Park reached under the counter and fiddled with
something. Disconnecting the power cord, he lifted a metallic box with
a grunt and thumped it on the counter. As condensation began to dew
the vessle Park tapped it with his finger. "Right in here."

For a moment confusion crossed the intruder's features, then
he reached the conclusion Harris has jumped to as soon as he
recognized one of the infamous (whatever Japanese is for 'head box'),
or 'head box' from the Draconis Combine. "He's *dead*?!" the agent let
out with a shriek.

"Yup."

The Capellan began to sputter. "He's the only one who knows
where the artifacts are!"

"Nope." His calm tone brought the incipent tirade to a
screeching halt. "I make him tell me before I killed him."

Relief and joy washed over the agent's face. "*You* know where
they are."

"Yup."

"Where?" Relief changed to shock with the reply.

"None of your damn business." Park began to polish a glass as
the agent opened and closed his mouth silently. "For fifteen years I
served the Confederation, and as you doubtlessly know I was assigned
as lead agent investigating the theft. However, when I was unable to
produce immediate results Romano Liao threw me *and my family* into
prision. I survived to take advantage of Sun Tzu's amnesty - they did
not." Picking up another glass, he began scraping a smudge with his
fingernail. " I swore an oath to track down the perperator before my
imprisonment, and I always keep my word - but I never said anything
about what I'd do once I *found* the stuff."

"But...but Chancellor Liao spared your life!  He offers you
your citizenship back, your rank. You *owe* him!"

Almost before the last syllable was uttered the Capellan agent
found himself staring at a pistol less than a foot from his eyes. "If
I don't blow your head off right now, does that mean you owe *me?*"

The six bodyguards produced weapons of thier own, but found
themselves facing *twelve* "customers" who sprouted thier own laser
pistols. Everyone froze for an instant, then Park returned his weapon
to it's hiding place under the counter. "You can tell "Lord Xin Sheng"
he is cordially invited to go screw a sheep. The Confederation stole
something irreplacable from me, and I feel like returning the favor."

Despite the fear he had felt moments before, the Capellan
agent was able to make his next statement in a voice of iron. "All the
resources of the Maskirovka will be raised against you. You're a dead
man."

Park picked up yet another glass and buffed it with practiced
ease. "I died in 3047. Everything since then has been a gift from the
gods that allows be to get a little payback before I rejoin my family.
Now get the hell out of my bar."

Harris waited until twenty after the enraged Maskirovka agent
had left before he approached Park. "Mr. Park? My name is Jared
Mountenbank. I understand you're looking to hire a mercenary unit?"

Park quirked an eyebrow and nodded. "I was, Mr. Mountenbank,
but I've already secured the services of a unit, as you might have
noticed." he said, gesturing at some of the men and women who had come
to his defense. Harris stared with unfeigned dejection at the people
his orders required him to ambush at some point. Park continued,
taking his mood for unhappiness at losing the contract. "In fact, I'm
meeting with thier CO to make final arraingments in a few mintures.
Speak of the devil, there he is now - hello Scott."

Jared turned at gaped with astonishment at his brother. Both
men spoke as one. "Oh *shit.*"

Thomas Knight's hands shook as he painstakingly measured the
ingredients - too little wouldn't satisfy his yearning, while too much
could make the remainder of his day a living nightmare. His vision
blurred under the pounding headache indicative of his withdrawal
symptoms. He whimpered softly as the machinery, with agonizing
slowness, processed the ground seed pods. Drip by drip, the magical
elixir his body craved fell from the stained spigot until, finally,
the chipped cup was full.

"Ahhh...", Knight sighed as he leaned back, enjoying the first
cup of coffee of the morning. Stretching his neck to make the obscene
crackling noises that always made his comrades wonder if he had
finally paralyzed himself, Knight flipped through the contract the
unit would be discussing today. The location caught his eye once
again, and he winced internally at the thought of operating on such a
backwater. *Oh well, at least we won't have to deal with much in the
way of opposition if we need to kick some ass*.

The door to the galley opened, admitting Colonel Harris and
their employer. Glancing at the cup in Knight's hand, Harris snorted.
"I knew you'd be in here getting your caffeine fix. Let's get going,
it's time for the briefing."

Knight moaned. "Dammit Scott, I just got up half an hour ago,
why the hell did you schedule this meeting at 11:00 on a day when I
had the night watch."

"Because I enjoy watching you suffer."

"Oh, if it's just *that*..." Knight mused. The 'MechWarrior
winked at their poker faced employer. "Don't worry Mr. Park, we're
just playing with each other. I can go with a lot less sleep than the
other officers, so I always get the third shift on important days like
today."

"Ah." Park replied. Although his expression remained
unchanged, Knight noted the release of tension in them.

"That's one of the things I wanted to mention before we
reached the assembly hall." Harris motioned to the door with his XO in
tow. "Although we aren't the Kell Hounds, we're a damn good unit, but
most of my people are a little....odd. It doesn't affect us in the
field at all, but take whatever you see or hear with a grain of salt -
it's just our way of laughing at the universe.

"You find the universe... amusing, Colonel Harris?" Park
inquired.

"It's either laugh or cry, Mr. Park." Knight stated, which
Harris confirmed with a wry nod. "If you spend too much time thinking
about how screwed up humanity is, you snap - so we just muddle through
our lives doing the best we can for ourselves and others, and hoping
that the galaxy will be a better place when we kick the bucket."

"That seems an odd philosophy to hold for a man who is paid to
kill others, Captain Knight." Park's statement could have been
insulting, but the curiosity in the man's eyes contrasted with the
power face he continued to wear.

"You've doubtlessly reviewed our file in ther Hiring Hall, Mr.
Park. You've noted the longer than average delay between missions at
certain points?" Harris asked, continuing with Park's nod. "The reason
for that is that we refuse to take missions that conflict with our
personal code of honor. We don't go hog wild about it like the Dracs
or the Clans, but we generally defend the innocent from the
aggressive. Innocent is relative, of course - we took a pirate hunting
contract with House Marik during the Chaos March invasion, but we
refused a more lucrative offer to participate in attacks on worlds
that were fairly happy under their current leadership."

"And in my case, Colonel?"

Harris turned at the ice in his employer's voice. "In your
case it's a toss up - in theory the artifacts we seek to recover
belong to the Confederation, but you were seriously wronged by House
Liao. Since in our eyes the claims on the items are fairly equal, we
look at whom we'll be helping, and most of us are unhappy with the way
Chancellor Liao abused his power as First Lord. Hurting him is going
to make us his enemies, but we really don't care that much - there
aren't a hell of a lot of House Lords we respect. Does that answer
your question, Mr. Park?"

"Yes it does Colonel. The reports I've assembled on your unit
appear to be accurate." Park's face finally cracked with a small
smile.

"Excellent." Another thirty meters brought them to the
hatchway for the briefing room. "Let's get started."

******

"I never would have taken this damn assignment if I knew where
it was going to lead," Jared Harris growled as he strode angrily down
the corridor. "Now I have to figure a way to ambush my own brother."

"Get real Jared, you would've taken the job no matter what."
His glare was enough to set many junior officers quivering, but
Margaret Lynch took it without flinching. "You know how important this
mission is - blowing it could mean the end of the League. You're going
to have to put your feelings aside and deal with this, or you could
indirectly be responsible for a war bloodier than the Fourth."

Harris nodded unhappily, but she wasn't finished. "Although
the Captain-General's emphasis on chivalry will reign in every unit
under his direct control, you know those maniacs on Rigel will start
tossing nukes around if it looks like they're going to lose their
homeworlds. I'm sure they aren't the only ones who'll choose to drag
as many invaders with them into death as possible, and to hell with
the rest of the League - they'll figure they've got nothing to lose,
and once they start, any planet that doesn't toss in the towel will be
burnt to a cinder."

"Dammit, I *know* that. I hope to God you're wrong about how
fanatical some of the planets will resist, but I can't say you're
totally off base. But he's my goddam *brother*, and I have to kill him
to get a friggin *cup*."

"I can tell you exactly what General Garabaldi would say to
you if you try to get out of this."

Harris nodded. " 'Shut up and Soldier' ".

"Bingo."

Harris sighed as he entered the briefing room, his XO peeling
off to grab a seat in the front row. Looking out at the men and women
facing him, he wondered how many would be returning with him to the
Free Worlds League. "All right ladies and gentlemen, let's get
started."

*****

Kwang Huizinga's mood flipped between confidence and fear so
rapidly the Maskrovia agent felt he was losing his grasp on reality.
He now commanded a staggering number of resources, all dedicated to
the success of his mission. Success would validate their use, failure
would likely end in his death.  Internally part of him was glad he had
been unable to generate any leads until recently. Recovery of items
tied so closely to the history of the Capellan Confederation would
have brought him glory at any point, but even more so with the Xin
Sheng movement inaugurated by Chancellor Liao. *I might even get a
Mandarinship out of this*.

Exerting iron control, he faced the thirty agents that had
secretly assembled in the warehouse. "All right, let's get started."
Activating the holo projector, he pointed at the image with his
pointer. "This is the face of your enemy."

*****

"This is the only person in the galaxy who knows the location
of Target Alpha. Our original plan, you doubtlessly recall, was to
seek employment as his mercenary bodyguards, but unfortunately he
found someone else before we arrived on planet." Jared Harris bit his
lip, activating another holograph. "This is Scott Harris, and we may
have to kill him and all his men."

***

"After we make planetfall, we'll need to contact Richard
Bullis, and.... persuade him to spill his guts."

"Torture?" one of the mercenaries asked with distaste.

"No," Park said, flashing a thick wad of C-Bills. "Bribery."
Park smiled slightly until the laughter passed, then became more
serious. "However, realize that, besides the seven security guards
slain during the break in, the thieves set half a block of apartments
on fire with an inferno spread as a distraction - not to mention the
late lamented Mr. Thorne slaughtered his team once he was in orbit.
Our contact wasn't directly responsible for either act - but he isn't
exactly a saint either, or Thorne wouldn't have trusted him enough to
hide the stuff. On the other hand, he's apparently fairly gutless, or
he would've taken off with the artifacts by now.  If currency will not
get us the information, I'm sure intimidation will."

Harris regained control of the briefing. "Jenny!"

"Yo!"

Pulling a holodisk from behind his back, the mercenary
commander sent it wizzing through the air with a flick of his wrist. A
hand darted up to snag the passing disk, immediately placing it in the
player seated in the owner's lap. "Those are the twenty most common
civvy groundcars in the target area. Reskin two of the Speedbumps
before we jump."

"No problem."

"We won't be able to make any further plans until we learn
what Bullis has to say, but we're pretty sure the artifacts are being
cached somewhere outside the city."

"How do we know that?" a unit member asked.

Park replied. "Context. Before I was able to turn the tables
on Bullis, he gloated that once he killed me he was going to pick up
Thorne, take a trip "to the mountains", and relocate somewhere else.
There aren't any mountains within 100 kilometers of Flat, and those
are liberally covered by mines, so the odds are the cache is either
somewhere else on planet or on a nearby world."

Nodding his thanks to his employer, Harris regained control of
the briefing. "That's basically it, we're going to have to wait and
see what happens when we hit the planet. Are there any questions?"


One of the technicians stood. His towering height almost
brushed the ceiling, and his bulk would give an Elemental pause.
Locking eyes with his CO as all conversation stilled, he said, in a
pitiful, whining voice, "I want my mommy."

"That's a statement, not a question," Harris pointed out, "and
your bizarre personal life is your own concern. Anyone else?"

"Is there a God?"

"Maybe. Next?"

A Mechwarrior held up a bottle. "Is Timbiqui Dark truly the
finest brew in the Inner Sphere?"

"No, but they have the biggest advertising budget. Anyone
else?"

Another Mechwarrior pulled something out of her pocket. As
soon as the red dot from the laser pointer appeared on the deck, a
gray and cream blur darted from beneath a chair and streaked to the
stage. The Mechwarrior shut the beam off as the blur resolved itself
into a cat, which frantically swiveled it's head, searching for the
dot. "Why does Connie chase after my pointer like that?"

Harris picked up the kitten, which ceased searching for the
missing spot and began to purr as he stroked it. "Because she has a
brain the size of a walnut. What else?"

"How many Wobblies does it take to screw in a lightbulb?"
someone else asked.

"Four - one to screw it in and three to pray to the spirit of
the copper wire. Next?"

A member of the DropShip's crew stood, clutching his head.
"How do I stop the VOICES?!"

"Try Thorazine. Anyone else?

"How many licks does it take to get to the center of a Tootsie
Roll Pop? "

Harris looked nonplussed. "What the hell is a Tootsie Roll
Pop?"

The Aerospace pilot pumped her fist in the air "*Yes*, I win
the pool!" Her grumbling colleagues began handing over wads of
C-Bills.

"Ok people, do we have any *serious* questions?" Harris asked.

"What kind of opposition are we talking about on planet?"

"Like most Chaos March worlds there isn't a planetary
government in firm control to worry about, but there are at least five
separate groups claiming sovereignty. Laio troops technically control
the area around the planetary capital, but we shouldn't have to engage
them - our LZ is a few hundred kilometers away. If we're attacked,  we
should be able to flatten them - they have less than a battalion
on-planet, and only two lances of 'Mechs. However, if we lollygag the
Cappellans might scrape together a force big enough to wax us -
Chancellor Liao wants this stuff pretty damn bad." Harris hesitated
for an instant. "In addition, it looks like the Free World League sent
out a unit to recover the items - God only knows why -  but they'll
probably try to nail us at some point. Luckily, neither House knows
where we're going, so we should be able to get in and out before they
can drop the hammer on us."

"When do we leave?"

"No later than 24 hours from now. We've finalized a deal with
the *Troedel*, which jumped in-system three days ago. It'll take
another three days to get from here to the Zenith point, which should
give them plenty of time to charge up. They'll need two weeks to
recharge, and they've agreed to stick around for an additional five
days, which gives us a day to get in and out - three days if we burn
at 1.5 Gs on the way back."

"What's to keep the JumpShip's captain from selling our
destination to the Cappies?"

"We haven't told them where we're going, just that we need
them to stay in the system for at least 19 days if they want the
contract for our return trip. We won't tell them our destination until
we dock. We're confident that we'll maintain secrecy."

***

"Acamar."

"Acamar? Are you sure? How do you know?"

The Acolyte smiled. "We are confident in the accuracy of our
information, Force Commander. However, the keepers of Blake's wisdom
must keep some knowledge to ourselves during these trying times."

Harris' skin crawled. He'd never been fond of the pre-Scism
ComStar, despite the fact that they'd saved the Captain-General's
life, but his feelings for the Word of Blake made his previous
misgivings seem minor, even laughable.

Distasteful or not, the Word of Blake was allied with the Free
Worlds League, and their contact had saved the mission from almost
certain failure. "When do they jump?"

"In approximately twelve hours. Assuming you leave within the
hour and boost at 1.5 G's they'll only have a two day lead on you,
which a pirate jump will more than make up."

"Good enough," Harris said, forcing everything but the mission
from his mind. "Thank you, acolyte. I don't want to be rude, but I
need to get my unit ready, so..."

"Of course, Force Commander. Blake's Will must be done."

***

Spacetime rippled and tore. Vaccum and the odd hydrogen ion
vanished and were replaced almost instantaneously with a hunk of
hollow metal filled with gas and organics. In a fit of pique, the
bruised universe announced the arrival of the *Trodel* with a burst of
electromagnetic energy spreading in a steadily expanding globe from
the JumpShip's entry point. This wave front was swiftly followed by
the weaker but more focused radiation emanating from the JumpShip's
radar emitter. Every object larger than a basketball within 100,000
kilometers reflected this assault with enough vigor to allow the
*Trodel* to accurately map it's immediate neighborhood. Noting no
threats, a pair of DropShips separated from the motionless JumpShip.
Utilizing only their reaction thrusters, the two spherical spacecraft
maneuvered until they were certain their larger cousin would not be
threatened by their exhaust, then triggered their mighty fusion
drives.

Nine hundred thousand kilometers away, sensitive instruments
pried at their targets. The modified *Fury*-class DropShip had
maintained station for the last four months, cataloging all traffic to
and from the star's zenith jump point. The electromagnetic pulse had
awakened the craft's computer and skeleton crew, and the radar
impulses had been detected almost immediately. The *Chae*, too, had
reflected the radar energy, but by the time the radiation had returned
to the JumpShip it had degraded beyond a detectable level.

The radar from the two DropShips had also been noted, but it
was a whisper compared to the torrent of energy pouring from the
fusion engines pushing the craft. Powerful computers instantly
classified the two ships as *Union* class, and the distinctive
signature of their drives was matched with equally distinctive
frequencies of their radar emitters. Watching just long enough to
verify the ships were heading for Acamar, the *Chae* aligned the
signaling laser that had replaced it's nose mounted weaponry on the
northern pole of the distant planet. A orbiting telescope awaited such
signals, as a similar satellite over the south pole watched for
signals from the ship covering the nadir point. Both installations
relayed to a safe house maintained by the Capellan Confederation.

Twenty minutes after the signal was received, a Hyperpulse
signal was on it's way to Outreach.

TO BE CONTINUED