Battletech IC #1: Outreach

[Hardened Pyrokinetics]

James had legitimately started smiling at seeing the old man goof off. His only memories of ComStar were from his childhood, back when he actually had time to hang around with the off-duty ComGuards. The moment he entered the Arenas, though, he wasn't able to - And then Katherine kicked them off Solaris entirely. Even the little acolyte joke elicited a grin.

That all washed away with the next question, though. "Yes." James responded plainly, his face going flat. "Two, actually." His voice made it clear it wasn't a topic he wished to discuss.

Walther nodded slightly and grimaced, sensing the strain in the boy's--in JAMES--voice.

"I'm sorry." Walther said simply, still staring out the doors. "If that witch of a Primus Waterly had...died...a few years earlier maybe ComStar could've done more instead of sitting back on our laurels for so long. Why Focht ever served her I'll never know." Walther's eyes unfocused for a moment as he continued staring out the doors. His voice lowered, but was still quite audible. "I wonder how many kids lost family members because of that mad bitch's delusions of grandeur? How many could we have saved by doing something sooner?"

Walther was silent for a moment, then looked to James, sticking his tongue out slightly. "Great Blake, listen to me rambling like some old man or something. Can't change the past can you?" Walther realized after he'd said this how little it meant. He'd meant for it to sound encouraging to James, but it was just too hollow and empty a phrase to do the job. Of course the past couldn't be changed, that didn't mean it wasn't horribly unfair or unjust, did it? Whether it was Walther's own service in ComStar or the people James lost to the Clans.

Or anyone else for that matter. Just how many innocents had died in the centuries of warfare in the Inner Sphere? That couldn't be changed, but accepting it as normal was just too...cynical? Weak?...for Walther to do.

"Power struggles." Walther finally continued, spitting out the phrase like a curse. "ComStar, the Clans and the Inner Sphere, Victor and Katherine 'call me Katrina cause I'm a bitch' Steiner-Davion..." Walther paused for a moment and the dark attitude that'd appeared disappeared seemingly in an instant.

"I guess I might be a little biased in that last one. huh?" Walther rolled his eyes and looked up. "Growing up on New Avalon has to count for something right?"

James barred a tooth. "I have the same opinion of her, don't worry." James re-assured the aging vet. "She fucked over my home just as much, although Victor isn't any form of saint either."

He leaned up against the wall beside Walther, helmet still hanging by the chinstrap from his right hand. "But enough about me, Sir, I do actually have a legitimate question: Why are you here?" He cleared his throat. "No disrespect intended, but you are quite old. You've seen more than even Artemus or the Colonel. You were at Tukayyid. So why are you still here, when you could have retired long before even the Steiner-Davion Squabble? Why stay in the cockpit of a 'Mech?"

[Occupied Deutschland]

James barred a tooth. "I have the same opinion of her, don't worry." James re-assured the aging vet. "She fucked over my home just as much, although Victor isn't any form of saint either."

He leaned up against the wall beside Walther, helmet still hanging by the chinstrap from his right hand. "But enough about me, Sir, I do actually have a legitimate question: Why are you here?" He cleared his throat. "No disrespect intended, but you are quite old. You've seen more than even Artemus or the Colonel. You were at Tukayyid. So why are you still here, when you could have retired long before even the Steiner-Davion Squabble? Why stay in the cockpit of a 'Mech?"

Walther bit his lip for a moment and tapped his cane against the floor a couple of times. “I suppose the proper mercenary answer here is ‘for the money’ right? I mean, it’s not like I’ve got much for skills to just hop out on some planet and just find a nice job, agri-mech pilots don’t get paid all that much after all. And the only other real option would be teaching at Focht War College.” Walther blew through his lips, “Which would mean living on that Blake-forsaken piece of rock it’s on.” And still being alongside ComStar personnel and teaching a new generation how to kill each other more efficiently, Walther thought to himself. Neither of those seemed like positive points.

“I guess the typical mechwarrior answer would be ‘because I can’, then? I’m still plenty good at piloting a mech around, and this isn’t the Clans where old soldiers get pushed into suicide battalions to maintain their honor.” Walther paused for a long moment as he thought that over. It actually didn’t sound all that bad. He’d seen so much, getting killed in battle by a superior opponent seemed like an easy way of going. Much easier than living on for decades and seeing more of everything he hated go on, or worse yet becoming more of a party to all those things than he already was. Walther had considered enlisting in the AFFS after he’d left ComStar but had dropped the idea quite quickly for exactly that reason. Victor Steiner-Davion had seemed impressive enough when Walther was just leaving ComStar, even somewhat admirable in his handling of the Clan invasions, but he wasn’t GOOD, and after serving ComStar for so long Walther had grown tired of compromising for serving the less than good.

“The actual answer?” Walther glanced at James, “I’m still dumb enough to think maybe I can do something, somewhere to help somebody by piloting one of these things. You’ve heard Blake’s message from Earth before, right? ‘…unity and prosperity of mankind.’ And all that.” Walther waved his hand as if the words were a joke, but they decidedly were not, not to him.

“None of the Houses are seeking that, no matter how legitimate they want to pretend this new Star League is. The Clans certainly aren’t. And the Word of Blake is crazier than a Clanner in a bloodname battle and actively working against it.” Walther was about to add ComStar, but he realized he didn’t really have an objective point against the organization that didn’t just point to its past, only personal problems that pointed to his own. How could he serve the organization that had killed his family?

Walther shrugged. “So here I am with mercs. At least with these guys if I don’t like who I’d be working for I can buy my way out of the contract…And I can do what I do best if I do like them.” Walther let out a little laugh at this last. “You know what they say about old dogs and new tricks after all. They’re a lot like old soldiers that way.”

"But, one serious question deserves another doesn't it kiddo? Just what made you decide to come here? I'm sure you could make more in one of the Arena's stables." Walther winked at the younger man, "And you'd certainly have much prettier girls at your beck and call. I mean, Jaz seems nice but she looks like she could beat up an elemental with one hand tied behind her back."

[Hardened Pyrokinetics]

James barred a tooth. "I have the same opinion of her, don't worry." James re-assured the aging vet. "She fucked over my home just as much, although Victor isn't any form of saint either."

He leaned up against the wall beside Walther, helmet still hanging by the chinstrap from his right hand. "But enough about me, Sir, I do actually have a legitimate question: Why are you here?" He cleared his throat. "No disrespect intended, but you are quite old. You've seen more than even Artemus or the Colonel. You were at Tukayyid. So why are you still here, when you could have retired long before even the Steiner-Davion Squabble? Why stay in the cockpit of a 'Mech?"

Walther bit his lip for a moment and tapped his cane against the floor a couple of times. “I suppose the proper mercenary answer here is ‘for the money’ right? I mean, it’s not like I’ve got much for skills to just hop out on some planet and just find a nice job, agri-mech pilots don’t get paid all that much after all. And the only other real option would be teaching at Focht War College.” Walther blew through his lips, “Which would mean living on that Blake-forsaken piece of rock it’s on.” And still being alongside ComStar personnel and teaching a new generation how to kill each other more efficiently, Walther thought to himself. Neither of those seemed like positive points.

“I guess the typical mechwarrior answer would be ‘because I can’, then? I’m still plenty good at piloting a mech around, and this isn’t the Clans where old soldiers get pushed into suicide battalions to maintain their honor.” Walther paused for a long moment as he thought that over. It actually didn’t sound all that bad. He’d seen so much, getting killed in battle by a superior opponent seemed like an easy way of going. Much easier than living on for decades and seeing more of everything he hated go on, or worse yet becoming more of a party to all those things than he already was. Walther had considered enlisting in the AFFS after he’d left ComStar but had dropped the idea quite quickly for exactly that reason. Victor Steiner-Davion had seemed impressive enough when Walther was just leaving ComStar, even somewhat admirable in his handling of the Clan invasions, but he wasn’t GOOD, and after serving ComStar for so long Walther had grown tired of compromising for serving the less than good.

“The actual answer?” Walther glanced at James, “I’m still dumb enough to think maybe I can do something, somewhere to help somebody by piloting one of these things. You’ve heard Blake’s message from Earth before, right? ‘…unity and prosperity of mankind.’ And all that.” Walther waved his hand as if the words were a joke, but they decidedly were not, not to him.

“None of the Houses are seeking that, no matter how legitimate they want to pretend this new Star League is. The Clans certainly aren’t. And the Word of Blake is crazier than a Clanner in a bloodname battle and actively working against it.” Walther was about to add ComStar, but he realized he didn’t really have an objective point against the organization that didn’t just point to its past, only personal problems that pointed to his own. How could he serve the organization that had killed his family?

Walther shrugged. “So here I am with mercs. At least with these guys if I don’t like who I’d be working for I can buy my way out of the contract…And I can do what I do best if I do like them.” Walther let out a little laugh at this last. “You know what they say about old dogs and new tricks after all. They’re a lot like old soldiers that way.”

"But, one serious question deserves another doesn't it kiddo? Just what made you decide to come here? I'm sure you could make more in one of the Arena's stables." Walther winked at the younger man, "And you'd certainly have much prettier girls at your beck and call. I mean, Jaz seems nice but she looks like she could beat up an elemental with one hand tied behind her back."

James kicked the floor with a boot. "Uh..." He stammered, caught off-guard by Walther's question. "Just... It's not exactly something I like to talk about..." Jesus, relax.

He took a breath. "In all honesty... I just don't like the stables. They're too rigid and sponsor-bound, and way too many are affiliated with the Houses for someone like me to feel comfortable." He leaned in and dropped is voice to a whisper. "Just between you and me, I'm a supporter of Solaris independence. None of the Successor States offer us anything, and most of the time we're allowed to do whatever we want to anyway."

[Occupied Deutschland]

James kicked the floor with a boot. "Uh..." He stammered, caught off-guard by Walther's question. "Just... It's not exactly something I like to talk about..." Jesus, relax.

He took a breath. "In all honesty... I just don't like the stables. They're too rigid and sponsor-bound, and way too many are affiliated with the Houses for someone like me to feel comfortable." He leaned in and dropped is voice to a whisper. "Just between you and me, I'm a supporter of Solaris independence. None of the Successor States offer us anything, and most of the time we're allowed to do whatever we want to anyway."

Walther shrugged. "I don't know about that, son. There's a lot of folks in Skye that would say the same thing for the same reasons and be completely wrong." Walther's tone was critical, but far from being certain. He honestly didn't know himself.

Walther considered the boy's words for a moment. Breaking up the Successor States further didn't seem like the best thing to do on its face, it simply engendered more reasons for war. But, perhaps it did more to benefit the galaxy than it hurt it. After all, Myndo Waterly had been dedicated to trying to unite the Successor States, and that had almost given the Inner Sphere to the Clans. Perhaps multiple smaller states at least meant less destructive wars.

"Well, in any case, I doubt the place would have any funding difficulties. Put a tiny tax on the match holovids and Solaris would be swimming in C-bills." Walther continued after a moment with a chuckle.

[Hardened Pyrokinetics]

James kicked the floor with a boot. "Uh..." He stammered, caught off-guard by Walther's question. "Just... It's not exactly something I like to talk about..." Jesus, relax.

He took a breath. "In all honesty... I just don't like the stables. They're too rigid and sponsor-bound, and way too many are affiliated with the Houses for someone like me to feel comfortable." He leaned in and dropped is voice to a whisper. "Just between you and me, I'm a supporter of Solaris independence. None of the Successor States offer us anything, and most of the time we're allowed to do whatever we want to anyway."

Walther shrugged. "I don't know about that, son. There's a lot of folks in Skye that would say the same thing for the same reasons and be completely wrong." Walther's tone was critical, but far from being certain. He honestly didn't know himself.

Walther considered the boy's words for a moment. Breaking up the Successor States further didn't seem like the best thing to do on its face, it simply engendered more reasons for war. But, perhaps it did more to benefit the galaxy than it hurt it. After all, Myndo Waterly had been dedicated to trying to unite the Successor States, and that had almost given the Inner Sphere to the Clans. Perhaps multiple smaller states at least meant less destructive wars.

"Well, in any case, I doubt the place would have any funding difficulties. Put a tiny tax on the match holovids and Solaris would be swimming in C-bills." Walther continued after a moment with a chuckle.

James tilted his head. "Not just that. There's a lot of countryside, surprisingly enough, that is absolutely covered in farms and ranches, and a lot of people have their own gardens. Most of the food on Solaris is home-grown, and there's always enough to go around. We'd have no issue trading that, or in products that come out of Solaris Arms. The Arenas aren't the only thing Solaris has, despite what everyone seemingly believes."

He let his head rest against the wall. "But that's all a pipe dream." He said, with a heavy sigh. "The Steiner's aren't going to give up Solaris. They didn't during the Family Feud and they sure as Hell won't now, not with the 17th Arcturan Guards buzzing through the streets like wasps. Not after losing the entirety of the Red Arrows."

[Northern Dominus]

Having finally cooled and cleaned himself off, Artemus emerged from the bathroom fully dressed, the right breast of the dark blue shirt displaying a red and grey fist logo.

Although he was well aware of James and Walter talking at the end of the long barracks building by his estimation James was still probably angry at him for some reason and he thought it best to simply start packing his duffel bag for the ride back. However not engaging was one thing, hearing was another matter entirely, and the crux of their conversation made his head spin. Introspection was one thing, but what those two were up to.

'... sure, yeah, I'm so screwed up and bad pity me and excuse my bad behavior. Ol hard-ass Rix probably would have boxed somebodies ears with a hammer for that. And while we're at it why don't we believe that one person that doesn't have the weight of an entire goddamn division behind them can make a difference...'

Shoving the last bit of kit into the duffel bag rather forcefully it was pretty much a reflex for Artemus to make a semi-exasperated face and shake his head before looking for a side exit out of the barracks.

[Occupied Deutschland]

James tilted his head. "Not just that. There's a lot of countryside, surprisingly enough, that is absolutely covered in farms and ranches, and a lot of people have their own gardens. Most of the food on Solaris is home-grown, and there's always enough to go around. We'd have no issue trading that, or in products that come out of Solaris Arms. The Arenas aren't the only thing Solaris has, despite what everyone seemingly believes."

He let his head rest against the wall. "But that's all a pipe dream." He said, with a heavy sigh. "The Steiner's aren't going to give up Solaris. They didn't during the Family Feud and they sure as Hell won't now, not with the 15th Arcturan Guards buzzing through the streets like wasps. Not after losing the entirety of the Red Arrows."

“I wouldn’t go that far.” Walther said slowly, cocking his head to the side slightly.

“Things can change quite quickly sometimes. I mean, look at Rasalhague. Nobody ever would’ve thought they’d gain independence until the Fourth Secession War came around and the Combine spat them out like so much bad sashimi. I mean, it didn’t last long and the next thing they knew the Ghost Bears were gobbling them up.” Walther chuckled slightly "Like so much bad sashimi."

Walther grinned slightly and clicked his tongue. “Maybe Solaris should act like the current Rasalhagueian government and get all buddy-buddy with the Clans if they want to try and earn their sovereignty? I mean, Solaris doesn’t have the benefit of royalty in their ranks, but there’s the Zellbrigen stables right?” Walther laughed for a moment but the sound died too quickly. Shaking his head, he unconsciously stretched his fake leg out.

It was a crazy universe when a joke like that sounded entirely too plausible.

[Hardened Pyrokinetics]

James tilted his head. "Not just that. There's a lot of countryside, surprisingly enough, that is absolutely covered in farms and ranches, and a lot of people have their own gardens. Most of the food on Solaris is home-grown, and there's always enough to go around. We'd have no issue trading that, or in products that come out of Solaris Arms. The Arenas aren't the only thing Solaris has, despite what everyone seemingly believes."

He let his head rest against the wall. "But that's all a pipe dream." He said, with a heavy sigh. "The Steiner's aren't going to give up Solaris. They didn't during the Family Feud and they sure as Hell won't now, not with the 15th Arcturan Guards buzzing through the streets like wasps. Not after losing the entirety of the Red Arrows."

“I wouldn’t go that far.” Walther said slowly, cocking his head to the side slightly.

“Things can change quite quickly sometimes. I mean, look at Rasalhague. Nobody ever would’ve thought they’d gain independence until the Fourth Secession War came around and the Combine spat them out like so much bad sashimi. I mean, it didn’t last long and the next thing they knew the Ghost Bears were gobbling them up.” Walther chuckled slightly "Like so much bad sashimi."

Walther grinned slightly and clicked his tongue. “Maybe Solaris should act like the current Rasalhagueian government and get all buddy-buddy with the Clans if they want to try and earn their sovereignty? I mean, Solaris doesn’t have the benefit of royalty in their ranks, but there’s the Zellbrigen stables right?” Walther laughed for a moment but the sound died too quickly. Shaking his head, he unconsciously stretched his fake leg out.

It was a crazy universe when a joke like that sounded entirely too plausible.

"ARE YOU FUCKING CRAZY!?" James suddenly exploded at Walther, his face snapping into one of rage. "Solaris, joining with the fucking Clans!?" He spat on the floor. "First off, while Rasalhague was right on the edge of known space, Solaris is on the border of Blakeland and Inbreeding - The moment we sent out any sort of request for alliance, we'd have martial law courtesy of the 17th Arcturan Guards and others. Additionally, everybody knows that the Clans want Terra - Nobody wants any Clan that close, not even us, and with all the in-fighting between the Clans whoever did eventually try and join us would be too weak to get past even the Kell Hounds and Wolf-In-Exile.

And besides." He spat again. "The Clans are bigger hypocrites and murderous psychopathic fucks than any of the Houses, are obsessed with their genetic engineering to the point of borderline Old Terran racism, and rule their worlds with an iron fucking fist where anyone not a 'warrior' and over the age of 30 are second-class citizens. I'd take the fucking Liaos or even Word of Blake over any Clan, at least they have some standards and freedom.

[Occupied Deutschland]

"ARE YOU FUCKING CRAZY!?" James suddenly exploded at Walther, his face snapping into one of rage. "Solaris, joining with the fucking Clans!?" He spat on the floor. "First off, while Rasalhague was right on the edge of known space, Solaris is on the border of Blakeland and Inbreeding - The moment we sent out any sort of request for alliance, we'd have martial law courtesy of the 15th Arcturan Guards and others. Additionally, everybody knows that the Clans want Terra - Nobody wants any Clan that close, not even us, and with all the in-fighting between the Clans whoever did eventually try and join us would be too weak to get past even the Kell Hounds and Wolf-In-Exile.

And besides." He spat again. "The Clans are bigger hypocrites and murderous psychopathic fucks than any of the Houses, are obsessed with their genetic engineering to the point of borderline Old Terran racism, and rule their worlds with an iron fucking fist where anyone not a 'warrior' and over the age of 30 are second-class citizens. I'd take the fucking Liaos or even Word of Blake over any Clan, at least they have some standards and freedom.

"Easy there son, it was a joke. Admittedly, in rather poor taste. My mouth gets ahead of my brain sometimes." Walther said in half-apology, smile fading.

The smile went out completely as Walther continued, tapping his cane against the younger man’s shins a handful of times. “Just like yours just did.” He said humorlessly.

Walther sighed. “If your idea of a standard is ‘backstab at least one person today’ and your idea of freedom is being able to curse the Death Commando come to slit your throat I suppose you might be right. But otherwise? You’re messed in the head if you think the Liaos or the Blakists are better than the Clans.”

Walther tapped his can against James’ again. “The Clan Wars are over junior, we won. The ‘freedom’ of the Inner Sphere is safe from the Clans for now. But they were never the primary threat to it. That came from us.” Walther pointed at himself.

“The Clans had their honor, their Zellbrigen. What did ComStar have to stop it from Operation Scorpion? What did the Word of Blake have to restrain it from conquering Terra via trickery? What do the Cappellans have to urge restraint? Or the Davions? Or the Steiners? Or the Kuritans?” Walther rattled off, growing louder and angrier as he went. “The Ares Convention? wzwhich nobody accepts anymore and everyone tries to covertly break to weaken their enemy. Look at the Co—Cappellan attack on New Avalon during the Fourth Secession War! Our standards are less existent than the Clan ones. We just give the outsides a thin veneer of paint to make them look nice.”

“Murderous psychopaths they may be. But the Inner Sphere has plenty of those itself, including the Liaos and the Word. But hypocrites? That is the one thing the Clans most decidedly are not.”

[Northern Dominus]

James' yelling had drawn the attention of a few sets of peering eyes. A few however stayed down, including those of Artemus. Over the years he had learned the difference between the "I have a point that you're not getting" type of scream and the "I have a knife in my pants and will stab everyone here" variety, and James was definetly in the former category.

Still, the entire drama playing out seemed to tickle something of a response of some kind, because as he shoved the last item into his bag and zipped it shut, a mirthless chuckle escaped his throat and floated around the room before speaking up, sounding so blatanlty amused that whatever he was thinking was anything but.

"You two are cute. Really, you should get your own holonet program, I'm sure it would do well."

[Occupied Deutschland]

James' yelling had drawn the attention of a few sets of peering eyes. A few however stayed down, including those of Artemus. Over the years he had learned the difference between the "I have a point that you're not getting" type of scream and the "I have a knife in my pants and will stab everyone here" variety, and James was definetly in the former category.

Still, the entire drama playing out seemed to tickle something of a response of some kind, because as he shoved the last item into his bag and zipped it shut, a mirthless chuckle escaped his throat and floated around the room before speaking up, sounding so blatanlty amused that whatever he was thinking was anything but.

"You two are cute. Really, you should get your own holonet program, I'm sure it would do well."

Walther was silent for a long awkward moment, but then grinned as he held a hand up to his chest as if in pain. "Only 'well'? Artemus, please. My presence alone would guarantee it more than just 'well'. Why, I'd bet we could get a contract for two or three years based off my good looks and intelligence alone!" Walther winked at James. "Throw the kid in with me and I could probably still talk them into a yearlong trial run." Walther laughed to emphasize he was joking and slapped James' shoulder, his earlier animosity at the young Arena fighter gone like so much smoke in the wind.

"But the only question is what we could call it..." Walther trailed off for a moment as he exaggeratedly rubbed his chin. After a brief second, he snapped his fingers. "I've got it! We could call it 'Alschittle and Callahan three-sixty', A-C three-sixty for short. Because we cover all the news of the universe! The tagline writes itself!" Walther beamed at his suggestion as he glanced between James and Artemus.

[Hardened Pyrokinetics]

James' yelling had drawn the attention of a few sets of peering eyes. A few however stayed down, including those of Artemus. Over the years he had learned the difference between the "I have a point that you're not getting" type of scream and the "I have a knife in my pants and will stab everyone here" variety, and James was definetly in the former category.

Still, the entire drama playing out seemed to tickle something of a response of some kind, because as he shoved the last item into his bag and zipped it shut, a mirthless chuckle escaped his throat and floated around the room before speaking up, sounding so blatanlty amused that whatever he was thinking was anything but.

"You two are cute. Really, you should get your own holonet program, I'm sure it would do well."

Walther was silent for a long awkward moment, but then grinned as he held a hand up to his chest as if in pain. "Only 'well'? Artemus, please. My presence alone would guarantee it more than just 'well'. Why, I'd bet we could get a contract for two or three years based off my good looks and intelligence alone!" Walther winked at James. "Throw the kid in with me and I could probably still talk them into a yearlong trial run." Walther laughed to emphasize he was joking and slapped James' shoulder, his earlier animosity at the young Arena fighter gone like so much smoke in the wind.

"But the only question is what we could call it..." Walther trailed off for a moment as he exaggeratedly rubbed his chin. After a brief second, he snapped his fingers. "I've got it! We could call it 'Alschittle and Callahan three-sixty', A-C three-sixty for short. Because we cover all the news of the universe! The tagline writes itself!" Walther beamed at his suggestion as he glanced between James and Artemus.

James hadn't smiled once the entire time, and actually caught Walther's cane the last time he hit James' leg with it.

"I wasn't joking." He finally said, his voice quiet. "Yes, under the Liao's you have to worry about being labeled a traitor, but at the end of the day the only way that's going to happen is if you are one. The Confederation is fine with people voicing opinions that aren't in like with those of the House - Actively splitting off, that's another matter entirely. As for Word of Blake, the only people they've stabbed in the back were ComStar, once, and that was less backstabbing and more skillful infiltration through the cracks in a stupidly traditionalist, archaic organization in order to gain control of the Terran system. The FWL seems to get along quite well despite the Blakists pulling the strings behind the scenes. And under either one I'd still be able to pilot a 'Mech. Under the Clans I'd be a second-class citizen at best, and likely summarily executed for being an 'uppity freebirth'.

Of course," he continued on, "the best scenario is that Solaris doesn't need to ally with anybody, that we don't end up under somebody elses control. But if worst comes to worst and, for independence, we had to get help, I'd sooner take Word of Blake or the Capellans over any Clan."

[Northern Dominus]

"...A-C three-sixty for short. Because we cover all the news of the universe! The tagline writes itself!"

This time the chuckle that escaped from his chest was genuine and humors and not laced with some sort of point, and the sharp edge to Artemus' grin left just for a moment, indicating that Walt's tangent was humorous enough to at least derail the sarcasm which was just waiting to be lobbed. Artemus took a breath to respond with his own suggestions for the show...

"... I'd sooner take Word of Blake or the Capellans over any Clan."

And then the sarcasm was re-loaded and ready to fire. However he didn't lob it like a Long Tom or Arrow IV barrage. Instead he went a more... inclusive route.
"Loyalty to Blakists or Liaos... if you say so. Personally I go by the "throwing distance" test, and people at the top of the political food chain are typically fat sassy bastards anyway.

I like that idea Walt, hell I'd watch it. You could bring in guests like some NAIS geek or Duncan Fisher or somebody else that plays war and have them argue with some jingoistic yahoo after egging them on. Hell I can already see the monologue spots; James here could open the show with "You're doing it wrong" where he coalesces every political move in the 'Sphere and gives them a piece of his mind, and you could close the show by taking one point and ranting about it for five minutes and call it "Get off my Lawn". Hell the ratings would spike when it comes time to elect a new First Lord... well when the fat sassy bastards get to elect the new one, all while ignoring the fact that humanity has been plagued by their kind since almost the get-go and some just get better rose-tinted glasses than others."

[Occupied Deutschland]

Of course," he continued on, "the best scenario is that Solaris doesn't need to ally with anybody, that we don't end up under somebody elses control. But if worst comes to worst and, for independence, we had to get help, I'd sooner take Word of Blake or the Capellans over any Clan."

Walther's smile wavered more than it probably should have. This Arena jockey was making massive claims that were so one-sided a kangaroo court in the Cappellan Confederation would blush. Yes the Clans were brutal genetics-obsessed bastards, but they were at least warriors, and honorable ones at that. The Capellans had never met the back they didn't want to stab, and the WoB shrouded themselves in the old trappings of religion ComStar had tried to shake off tricking people into joining their cult of technology. Where was the honor there? Clan society might be brutal and biased towards warriors, but at least it was up-front about it. The whole Cappellan state existed to convince people the Liaos were God and the Word of Blake made like it was the prophet of a God, both all the while claiming their interest in humanity. Better the Clans than either of them.

Hell, maybe it would've been better if they hadn't been stopped on Tukayyid...

Walther shook his head slightly as the smile returned. He'd held the same hatred for the Clans once, no point in holding that against the kid. His attitude was probably connected to his family. Grudges could be held on to for a long time and make people do things that would otherwise be ridiculous. Like side with the Blakists over anyone else. Hell, if Stefan Amaris rose from the grave he'd probably be better than the mystical techno-cultists that made up the majority of the Word.

"I'm sure that would work out." Walther said simply, trying to keep his tone neutral.

...Hell the ratings would spike when it comes time to elect a new First Lord... well when the fat sassy bastards get to elect the new one, all while ignoring the fact that humanity has been plagued by their kind since almost the get-go and some just get better rose-tinted glasses than others."

Walther nodded. "There would certainly be no shortage of things to complain about, would there?"

[SaintB]

Dave only caught the tail end of the discussion as he came along but tossed himself into it anyway as a means of letting them know he was there, "There will never be a shortage of things to complain about as long as humanity is around." he answered Walter.

"The bus is here and ready to go. We got about ten minutes before it leaves so I suggest you guys get ready to go." he sniffed the air, "And a couple of you should shower if you please, the bus is already crowded." he added as an afterthought.

As far as Dave was concerned Walter and Artemis were in, it was just a matter of hashing out the contracts. James he was a bit wary of, if he could get the kid to remain in position and show a little discipline he would be a valuable asset but if he pulled more stunts like he did in the simulation he'd be an expensive liability that might even make the company take a loss on a mission someday. Not just monetarily.

"I don't want any of you three missing the bus, victory drinks are on me tonight."

[Hardened Pyrokinetics]

Dave only caught the tail end of the discussion as he came along but tossed himself into it anyway as a means of letting them know he was there, "There will never be a shortage of things to complain about as long as humanity is around." he answered Walter.

"The bus is here and ready to go. We got about ten minutes before it leaves so I suggest you guys get ready to go." he sniffed the air, "And a couple of you should shower if you please, the bus is already crowded." he added as an afterthought.

As far as Dave was concerned Walter and Artemis were in, it was just a matter of hashing out the contracts. James he was a bit wary of, if he could get the kid to remain in position and show a little discipline he would be a valuable asset but if he pulled more stunts like he did in the simulation he'd be an expensive liability that might even make the company take a loss on a mission someday. Not just monetarily.

"I don't want any of you three missing the bus, victory drinks are on me tonight."

"Sure thing, Sir." James responded, releasing Walther's cane. "I'd shower but, well..." He gave his shirt a tug. "This is all I got. I'll shower when we get back to base."

He made his way to his bunk and retrieved his belt and revolver. Checking the gun over to make sure it hadn't been tampered with, he shoved it into its holster and headed out for the bus, helmet still hanging by the strap from his left hand.

[Occupied Deutschland]

Dave only caught the tail end of the discussion as he came along but tossed himself into it anyway as a means of letting them know he was there, "There will never be a shortage of things to complain about as long as humanity is around." he answered Walter.

"The bus is here and ready to go. We got about ten minutes before it leaves so I suggest you guys get ready to go." he sniffed the air, "And a couple of you should shower if you please, the bus is already crowded." he added as an afterthought.

As far as Dave was concerned Walter and Artemis were in, it was just a matter of hashing out the contracts. James he was a bit wary of, if he could get the kid to remain in position and show a little discipline he would be a valuable asset but if he pulled more stunts like he did in the simulation he'd be an expensive liability that might even make the company take a loss on a mission someday. Not just monetarily.

"I don't want any of you three missing the bus, victory drinks are on me tonight."

"Is the smell really that bad?" Walther frowned slightly, then dipped his own head down and sniffed. Jerking his head away, the Mechwarrior stuck his tongue out and swallowed heavily. "Okay, you might have a point there, Bossy Bear. I wouldn't wish this on anyone"

Grinning, Walther bowed to the other men with an extravagant wave of his left arm, keeping his right firmly locked on his cane. "If you will excuse me, me and soap have some quick catching up to do."

With that, Walther hurried past the other men and into the shower facilities.

[Northern Dominus]

Artemus and Kat

"...the bus is already crowded. I don't want any of you three missing the bus, victory drinks are on me tonight."

With a shrug and a small salute Artemus simply responded

"Yes colonel."
In Bear's direction before re-shouldering his duffel bag and heading for the door, giving Walt and James a small wave and shrug on the way out. If they had anything more to say to him it would have to wait for the time being, mainly because they probably had some personal hygiene issues to take care of. However there was more to be said that Artemus wasn't getting into, at least not at the moment, neither Walter nor James had earned that degree of openness at that point.

As he climbed on the bus and found a relatively empty seat he retrieved the book from one of the side pockets of the bag that he had been working on previously, and settled in, seemingly oblivious to the noise around him. However looks were deceiving, and Artemus was fully aware of the eyes boring into his forehead from over the seat in front of him. Flicking his eyeballs up to the appropriate degree it was apparent that none other than she of superior temprament and raven hair, Kat Fuego herself that was staring at him.
Staring might have been an unfair description however, it was more akin to scrutinizing with the intent to provoke a reaction. And provoke it did, albeit a simple one from Artemus,

"Yes?"
Kat for her part didn't launch into anything right away, rather she seemed content to cock her head to one side then the other as if Artemus was some sort of petty offender that showed spunk in front of royalty before continuing.

"You know, we could have crushed them in no time. We had favorable positioning and initiative, more intact mechs, but you offered terms of surrender. The people I learned from would have called that a weakness."
Now it was Artemus' turn to cock his head to the size and raise an eyebrow in consideration. Granted he had been at the forefront more than one refused request for surrender, but still...

"Weakness, right. Like you said we had superior positioning initiative and force strength, and it was pretty obvious to everyone, so why not offer those terms? Mercenaries are paid to get results, how they get them is another matter entirely...."
Artemus seemed to consider the lecture he was about to give then suddenly shifted gears and direction of travel.

"Your mech is a familial one, right?"
Kat seemed taken aback for a moment before recovering, albeit with a growing demeanor of confusion

"Yes, but..."
Artemus pressed on with a bit of emphasis in the first letters.

"And you fought in the Lyran Armed Forces right?"

"Yes, what does..."

"So you didn't have to worry about paying for ammunition, armor, spare parts, provisions, anything like that right?"

"Well no but that's not the point..."

"What is the point exactly Kat? That we should have continued on tearing away at the defenders and risked injury and death due to a lucky shot and a reduced payout if it were the real thing?"
There was a pause while Kat seemed to consider what Artemus mentioned, then rejected it at least partially.

"No, what I'm saying is that was a time to shine, to show strength and make a statement. Some of us don't have resume's like you might, and you denied that to a lot of people."

It was all he could do to not roll an eye, although a slight tic in the corner of his mouth might have given him away for a split second

"Resume..." Artemus said before holding a hand up and waving his fingers slightly. "... touch that Kat, tell me what you feel and what you think that is."
Kat gave him an odd look before obliging and gingerly poking and stroking the back of the raised hand.

"It's... a hand? Made of skin and bone and flesh and veins?"

Artemus slowly lowered the hand before opening the book up, but before going back to reading he closed the matter in his customary way.
"It is made of skin and bone and flesh and veins, but you see, that's my resume. I'm alive and I'm whole. That's a lot better than many mercs who have worked as long as I have can say. That's my resume."

Kat opened her mouth to speak again but closed it just as quickly. Artemus had gone back to reading the weathered paperback he was reading in the first place, a clear sign that whatever she thought about his resume, it might as well have been spoken to the wind at that point.

[Occupied Deutschland]

Walther sighed heavily as he patted his hair dry. The shower had been slightly annoying, very little warm water left because he'd waited too long, and the floor so slippery from previous users he had felt like a circus performer trying to cross it without slipping. Still it certainly wasn't the worst shower he'd ever had.

Shaking out his shirt, Walther put the thing back on and sighed happily at how less constricting it felt than the cooling vest that sat on the bench below him. His pants came next. With both those articles of clothing done, there were only a few things left on the bench.

Snatching the topmost item that he'd had wrapped in his pants, Walther once again considered throwing it away. Once again, instead of doing so he ducked his head into the lanyard and then tucked it below his shirt. Someday maybe he'd take off the pointed star.

Walking onto the bus, Walther caught only the tail-end up Artemus' explanation.

...
"It is made of skin and bone and flesh and veins, but you see, that's my resume. I'm alive and I'm whole. That's a lot better than many mercs who have worked as long as I have can say. That's my resume.
...

Sitting behind Kat, Walther exaggeratedly raised his prosthetic leg onto the seat before winking at the woman.

"Alive and whole doesn't get you the ladies though, does it? You gotta have something to set you apart from the crowd of other people. That's why I've got a leg-up on all you folks!" Walther chuckled as a few of the other men on the bus groaned.

"Sure having injuries means you might've made some mistakes as a Mechwarrior, but ladies love men who've made mistakes. They want to fix us and keep us from making any more of them." Walther's smile wavered for a moment. "They can't of course."

"But that's just because of their smaller, weaker minds." Walther continued, the smile returning as he flinched back from Kat and raised his hands in front of his face to block a hit from her direction. "I'msorrydon'thurtmeI'moldandfragile!"

[SaintB]

Bear also heard Artemis's explanation of why he made the call and he was completely in agreement, it was the same kind of call Bear would have made himself in a real combat situation like the one the simulator presented. Walther's joke earned a only semi forced chuckle from the Lt. Colonel before he joined in the conversation, "I would keep that opinion to myself around Colonel Kessler, she'd probably skin you alive, and then me for hiring you." he grinned and winked after he said it, "And to Artemis's point; its the same call I would have made. It saves money and greatly improves the chances of a successful mission. Some companies even make it a policy to offer terms to their opponent before the engagement even begins. Its not about being nice or being weak and afraid... its just simple economics. Did you know that on average it costs about 2C million every year to maintain a battlemech in working order for combat? Then add in the costs for ammo, armor, and repairing battlefield damage you can easily match the cost of some of the 'mechs themselves. In real life Artemis could have saved the company hundreds of thousands or even a million C-Bills when he offered them terms. Possibly more if they had got a few lucky hits in."

[Northern Dominus]

Artemus and Kat
While most of the bus groaned at Walters' self depircation, there was one snigger from a particular seat, the one that Artemus currently occupied. Although there were no words spoken, a slight tip of the book in his hand to acknowldge that yes, Walter had a point, probably the point overall.

Kat however seemed incapable of fully letting go of the issue, or at least not grasping the ramifications and the operations. Before addressing the colonel however was a response to Walters' assertion.

"Tell you what Walter, I won't hit you if you'd be willing to participate in a bit of live-fire target practice with me. After watching a few pretty incredible shots it seems I need to brush up on hitting a moving target a bit."
While Walter pondered an answer she turned back to the colonel, the mirth gone from her tone and voice when she addressed him.

"Forgive me for saying so sir, but I don't believe your story, at least not fully. Oh sure some commands could be inclined to offer terms of surrender initially, but what of outfits like the Dragoons or the Hounds who have profited by their fearsome reputation? Or at least have a reputation built on continued excellence under fire? You don't hear of them offering terms of surrender early and often, and since they have the best reputation and get the biggest contracts why shouldn't every mercenary command strive to do the same?"

[SaintB]

Dave involuntarily laughed at the question before somewhat regaining his composure, "I'm sorry. Its just that comparing your average merc company to the Kell Hounds or Wolf's Dragoons is like comparing apples and oranges. You see, groups like the Hounds and Dragoons get paid hundreds of millions, even a billion C-Bills to do their missions and most of their missions are ones where offering terms of surrender is likely impossible. They get objectives like 'occupy Terra' or 'defend this world from the entire Draconis Combine'. We regular mercs don't make that much and instead we usually get paid a rate based on the number of units we can field and the mission we are being hired for. We get mission objectives like 'capture and occupy this airstrip'. In the end its all about the C-Bills and what is more economical; on a small scale like ours it is more economical to offer the enemy a chance to withdraw and keep whatever they have left intact. I mercenary unit that is in a desperate pinch is more likely to put up a harder fight than a House unit simply because they cannot afford to lose their equipment in a battle while the house soldiers will. On the flip-side if they have an out where they can escape with their lives and equipment they are more likely to take it than a house unit would because they have to pay for all their own gear, and they aren't going to face any punishment more harsh than missing out on a few hundred thousand C-Bills if their employer is feeling like an ass. Surrendering house soldiers have been executed by their superiors dependent on who they serve."

In the end it was all about money, it made perfect sense to him but he had been a mercenary for a little over a decade and had been in a command position the entire time. He wasn't going to divulge the information about GSS current contract in front of a bunch of people who weren't getting hired but Gun Squads was making about 100,000 C-Bills for each lance of 'mechs they provided for each week they remained with the Concordat. If you took in the cost of maintenance, employee payroll, discretionary funds, supplies, and etc the company was only making about 10,000 C-Bills profit off of each 'mech that it could bank.

[Occupied Deutschland]

...
"Tell you what Walter, I won't hit you if you'd be willing to participate in a bit of live-fire target practice with me. After watching a few pretty incredible shots it seems I need to brush up on hitting a moving target a bit."...

Walther exaggeratedly pulled against the neckline of his shirt and gritted his teeth "I do hope you don't want to use lil' ol' ME for target practice! I mean, I'm good but as the sim proved I tend towards the vulnerable side when it comes to L-R-Ms."

With a light laugh, Walther nodded. "I suppose if it gets me out of being hit I could go in alongside you for some live-fire range time. Blazing away with my lasers don't cost me too much and these old eyes need all the exercise they can get."

[SaintB]

The Lieutenant Colonel did a quick head count, satisfied that the bus was filled he closed the door and bid the driver to return to the city limits. As the bus drove he took a seat in the front behind the driver and started going over his observations on a personal tablet. Ronin, Priest, Dragon, Timberwolf, and Andromeda were shoe-ins for a contract. There was only one basic contract at this point but it wasn't a bad one as far as small merc outfits went; the mechwarrior contracts were one year with a salary rate of 400 C-Bills a week (easily four times what the average infantryman would make) plus housing, food, 'mech repairs, transportation, ammunition, medical treatment, and etc. were all covered by GSS. There was even a (small) budget for upgrades and full access to the corporation's technical staff including the genius mind of Billy McDavis. Not a bad deal all in all.

[Strykla]

Julius looked about. "So," he said loudly over the diesel roar, "When do we get our next assignment?"