Writer's Note: Found this sitting on my harddrive. It was written when I was busy obsessing about IndustrialMechs and the Dark Age. Not a combat piece, but more like a slice of life after Grey Monday.
Carnwath
Prefecture IX
Republic of the Sphere
3 November 3132
Liza Killgore, CEO of Carnwath Industrial Equipment, glanced up from her noteputer as she heard the door to her office gently swish open. A well-manicured young man bearing a tray with a blue enameled teakettle, mug, small urn, petite fluted silver pitcher, and a heavily weathered and pitted spoon entered.
“I apologize for the delay, ma’am. You arrived unusually early this morning. I will adjust my schedule accordingly.” He slid the tray onto her desk with practiced ease. “Is there anything else you require this morning? You have quite a busy schedule today. Jorge wants to talk first thing this morning. I expect the union delegation will be a surly mood after Governor Xianglo’s latest announcement.”
Killgore nodded with an audible sigh. “I imagine everyone’s feeling a bit peeved. My eldest daughter started giving me an earful about the new curfew restrictions before the governor even finished announcing them. It’s going to wreak even more havoc on the already dangerously unstable planetary economy.”
She shook her head, “I’m not sure it was a necessary or even a wise move on his part. As if people don’t already have enough problems, now they can’t even stay out past midnight to let a little steam off.” She turned serious, “I’m just worried about how this is going to impact third shift. I’m sure that’s what Jorge wants to talk about. I’ve got to credit the man, he doesn’t waste time.”
The young man chuckled, “He was quite insistent, ma’am. But I’m afraid he wasn’t the only one to muscle his way on to your schedule.” With a few deft motions, he poured a measure of steaming hot tea into her mug. “Is this a one-lump or two-lump day?”
Killgore groaned. “If there’s another surprise coming my way, maybe you should make it three, Joff. Who else needs to talk,” she joked, “Legate O’Mallory, or the governor himself?”
Two unusually generous teaspoons of sugar plus a dash of heavy cream later, Joff Maginda presented the mug of tea to his boss with a glowing smile. “I’m afraid we can’t afford such excess during these troubles times, ma’am, I’m afraid I have to cut you off at two or accounting will have my head.”
Killgore rolled her eyes in jest and laughed, “Things must be much worse than I realize if the CEO of the largest and most important corporation on Carnwath can’t afford three lumps of sugar in her morning tea.” She picked up the battered spoon, considering it for a long moment before using it to stir her tea.
“This spoon was made from the first batch of refined steel CIE ever produced. It dates back to before the Republic. CIE weathered both the Fed-Com Civil War and the Jihad. If it survived those, I’m sure it can handle whatever is coming next. Now out with it Joff, who is my other surprise guest or are you just teasing me because I don’t see anything else out of the ordinary on my schedule.”
Maginda stiffened, “Colonel Rebecca Yew, commanding officer of the Carnswath planetary militia. She explicitly asked that I leave her name off your schedule. She doesn’t want this meeting publically known. She will be arriving in civilian dress, ma’am, at noon. In the interest of discretion, I have arranged for you and the Colonel to discuss matters over lunch in the adjacent conference room.”
He relaxed slightly as he continued on, “Do you have a preference? I was thinking perhaps Brunswick stew from the Colonial along with a loaf of sourdough from Taswell’s? They make such excellent bread. I think it would make the perfect accompaniment.”
The clinking of the spoon against the mug abruptly stopped. “Colonel Yew?”
Maginda nodded, “Yes, ma’am.”
Killgore slowly lifted the mug to her lips, taking her first sip of tea. “I need to see Josh before the meeting with the Colonel. Make it happen.” Her gaze shifted down to her noteputer.
Maginda could all but see the switch flip inside of Killgore’s head. She was now in business mode, the pleasantries of the day dismissed. “I’ll see to it immediately, ma’am.” With that, he turned, intending to quietly slip out the door.
“Oh, and Joff, my sweet tooth seems to be acting up. Get a couple loaves of that wonderful molasses brown bread instead of the sourdough to go with the stew.”
---
What seemed only minutes later, Maginda’s voice came over the private intercom built into her desk. “Mr. Gurinda has arrived. He has with Mrs. Donahue with him.”
She responded curtly, “See them both in.”
Seconds later, her office door opened and Magdina escorted the two union representatives to a pair of high-backed chairs in front of her desk. “Will you be needing anything else, ma’am?” he queried.
“Not at the moment, Joff, thank you.” She turned her attention to the president of the United Industrial Workers union. “What can I help you with, Jorge? We can dismiss with formalities. I have an extraordinarily busy day ahead of me.”
A forced smile crossed the tall swarthy man’s pockmarked face as he lowered himself into the chair opposite her. “Yes, yes, I’m sure you do, Liza. Undoubtedly, you are aware of the curfew Governor Xianglo announced yesterday. I’m concerned this is going to have a detrimental effect on our Shift III workers. That is why I asked Donna to join us. As you know, she is the Shift III Foreman at Plant #3.”
Killgore gore nodded at the woman and then shifted her gaze back to the Gurinda. “I am every bit as concerned as the two of you. However, the situation is much more complicated than simply the imposition of a curfew here on Carnwath. The entire Republic itself unsettled. The transition of power from Exarch Devlin Stone to Damien Redburn has not been a smooth one, to say nothing of Stone’s apparent disappearance. Frankly, the Republic’s economy is in shambles. I’m sure you are aware of the massive layoffs implemented by Bannon Universal Unlimited earlier this year in the wake of the Senate’s DiNapoli hearings. Not to mention the utter collapse of the banking system in Prefecture I.”
The two union representatives nodded, Gurinda’s forced smile gone and the look on Donahue’s face growing increasingly grim as she continued. “And now with the HPG network offline since early August, news is scarce, rumors abound, and, most disturbingly, interstellar trade has all but dried up. There have even been rumors of fighting in Prefecture X on Dieron.”
Killgore took a deep breath, her face filling with sympathy. “Look, Jorge, the truth is CIE is carrying a lot excess of inventory right now. More than the local client base can absorb. Until we can start shipping our IndustrialMechs off world again, that situation is unlikely to change.”
Gurinda’s face tightened as he fought to control his expressions. “So that’s it? You’re going to use the Governor’s curfew as cover to lay off an entire shift?”
Killgore’s hands shot up, “Whoa, slow down, Jorge, no one is talking about layoffs. Obviously, with the travel restrictions in place the schedule will have to be adjusted. You already knew that before you came in here. How about the union comes up with a proposal, including a revised schedule, and I’ll take a look at it. You’re in the best position to develop a plan that we can all sit down and discuss. Look, I’m just as concerned about the future of Carnwath Industrial as you are. These are increasingly dangerous times, not just for you and the people you represent, but for all of us. We are going to have to work together to find a way to weather this storm.”
Donahue spoke for the first time, the worry plain on her face, “Let’s just hope it doesn’t get any worse.”
---
The size of his security force had never struck Josh Freylee, Chief Security Officer for Carnwath Industrial Equipment, as small. Until now. Three dozen officers had, at times, seemed almost extravagant, but now they seemed stretched impossibly thin given the number of facilities they had to monitor.
In retrospect, it seemed as if the Hyper-Pulse Generator, with its unending stream of interstellar news, information, and sports coming in one end and endless barrage of messages going out the other, had served as a kind of planetary opiate. He himself had not realized just how subtly comforting it was to know that Carnwath was part of something much, much larger, that the Republic of the Sphere was there to backstop them. There to protect them.
The machinations of the Senate were easily debated, and just as easily dismissed, from some 120 light years away. The latest fights from the gladiatorial arenas of Solaris VII were available with the flick of a hand, scotch from Glengarry, beer from Timbiqui, tri-vid players from Tharkad, Xantaran steaks, there was plentiful evidence that Carnwath was a part of a nation light years across, a small planet, in a big, big universe.
Then, literally overnight, all of that abruptly vanished. Grey Monday. The 7th of August. When everything went dark. Just three months ago and already the date had its own name, an ominous sign indeed. First the information flow stopped. Then, interstellar travel. What little news that now came to Carnwath, never a major trading post to begin with, was transmitted by the occasional JumpShip passing through. And it had become all but unheard of for a DropShip to land on planet over these past few months.
In fact, the last one that had landed had essentially ignited a mob scene at the largely deserted StarPort. Between people begging to buy passage off planet, begging to buy whatever off-world goods were available, begging to sell their own goods, or just simply begging to hear news of what was going on “out there,” the local authorities had been called in to restore order to chaotic scene.
Surprisingly, Carnwatch Industrial Equipment had been one of only a small handful of manufacturers the DropShip captain had been interested in doing business with. While he wasn’t privy to the details of the bargain struck, it was obvious it had been a big one, as the CIE warehouses had been all but emptied by it and were only now just filling back up.
He had recently increased both the frequency and size of his patrols. He knew a storm was brewing; the DropShip mob had been the first sign. Civil unrest was on the horizon. The Republic government knew it as well. Governor Xianglo has imposed a curfew just last night and already luxury goods were scarce and those that remained commanded exorbitant prices.
With any luck, Kilgore had called him into her office to approve his requisitions for additional personnel and equipment. He glanced down at the noteputer in his hand. He was prepared.
He pushed open the plate glass doors to the executive suite. As expected, Killgore’s foppish assistant was waiting for him. As Joff opened his mouth, he cut him off, “Stow it, Joff. Just tell the boss I’m here. And no, I don’t want any tea. Now, if you had a cold bottle of Timbiqui, that would be different story.”
Joff frowned in disapproval as he manipulated his desk’s hidden controls, “Chief Freylee has arrived.” His eyes drifted unfocused across the room, his head slightly tilted as he presumably listened to a reply via his earpiece, then he stood, wiping the creases from his suit with a single, smooth practiced swipe. “President Killgore will see you now,” he said as he opened the solid wood door, admitting him into the CEO’s office.
Freylee passed through the door into the inner sanctum of Carnwath Industrial Equipment. Killgore motioned to one of two high-backed chairs positioned in front of her desk. As he took his seat, he noticed it was still warm. “Back-to-back meetings, boss?”
She gave a curt nod, “And another on the way, which is I wanted to see you. Colonel Rebecca Yew is coming to see me at lunch today. She requested the meeting be confidential. Joff knows the details.”
He nodded, “No problem, I’ll handle the security personally. If she wants it kept quiet, I’ll make sure no one sees her, except, of course, you.”
She waved his comments away with flick of her hand, “I’m not concerned about her security, she has her own people, and that’s not why I wanted to see you.”
He straightened up in his chair, as she continued. “I’m sure you remember the cargo ship that landed a few weeks ago.”
He nodded, “Sure, the one that practically caused a riot.”
She locked him with her eyes, “Well, I have a strong feeling things around here are about to start changing. That DropShip was carrying, among other things, a rather large weapons shipment from the Republic Armed Forces. And, relating directly to CIE, detailed engineering plans for arming and armoring IndustrialMechs, what the military generally referred to as “MODs.”
Freylee had a poker face and he managed to keep his expressional entirely unchanged as she delivered the startling news. “So, you think Colonel Yew is coming to see about up-arming the militia with MODs?”
Killgore nodded, “She has the weapons, armor, and munitions required for the modifications. I’ve already had our top engineering team review the plans and they assure me our facilities can do the work. I expect Colonel Yew will ‘ask’ that I begin retrofitting our existing stock as soon as possible.”
Freylee snorted, “Let me guess, by ‘ask,’ you mean ‘order.’ I knew Yew back when she was a Captain in the RAF and I was just a lowly Sergeant. She was prickly enough back then, I imagine pinning a bird on her only made her worse.”
It was time to make his own play, “If we’re going to start handling weapons and munitions, not to mention storing MODs on site, we’re going to need to seriously beef up security around here, not to mention the civil unrest and uptick in crime. Luckily, I saw this coming and you should already have my requisition on your desk. Of course, I wasn’t anticipating this major of a change, so I’m sure I’ll need to make some supplementary requests as well.”
She waved his request away, “Obviously. Consider it approved as well as any other requests within reason. However, what I really wanted to talk to you about was arming our own security people.”
Freylee’s eyebrows shot up. When out on patrol, his people already carried tasers and stunsticks and were equipped with ballistic vests and radios. Their patrol vehicles had basic communication gear that allowed them to talk directly to the local law enforcement agencies and a containment cage in the back. The vehicles also carried a shotgun. “When you say ‘arm,’ what exactly are you talking about?” he queried.
Her face hardened as she responded. “CIE needs its own military-style unit. One equipped to safeguard its interests and facilities against any potential threat.”
Freylee whistled. “Are you talking military-grade hardware or a few armored patrol vehicles and semi-automatic rifles here?”
Her eyes bored into him, “I’m talking APCs, IFVs, maybe a VTOL or two and, most importantly, people trained to operate and fight IndustrialMech MODs. You’ve got a military background, you know what it takes. Send me list of the equipment you need to get started and I’ll run it by Colonel Yew this very afternoon.”
Freylee whistled again, even louder. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll start with our own people first, but I’ll also need to recruit from the outside as well, especially for the VTOL pilots. I think I could get a company sized unit off the ground and running in a few months if I can get the equipment and personnel I need in short order.”
Her face never moved. “Tell me what you need, and I’ll see that you get it, Josh. You’ve got some long days ahead of you. We all do. I’ll update you after my meeting with Colonel Yew. You may go.”
He nodded. By the time he stood, she had already shifted her attention to something else. As he exited her office, he glanced over a Joff. “Take good care of her, she’s going to need it.”
Surprised, Joff just stared at him.
---
The first thing Colonel Rebecca Yew noticed was the smell. A rich, meaty aroma wafting from a silver tureen filled with stew. Competing with the fragrance was that of freshly baked bread, neatly sliced and arrayed on an adjacent platter, steam still rising gently from it. A crystal pitcher of iced tea, fresh mint leaves floating on top, completed the spread. Even with all the critical issues pressing at her mind, she couldn’t help but be distracted by the offerings. As she entered the small conference room, now dining room, Carnwath Industrial Equipment CEO Liza Killgore waved her to a chair directly across from her.
“Colonel Yew, I know how busy we both are, so I thought we could kill two birds with one stone.” Killgore motioned to the spread.
Yew nodded as she took the indicated chair, “A lunch meeting. How efficient.”
Joff seemingly materialized out of nowhere and, with just few deft motions, he ladled the stew in bowls, placed two slices of hot bread on the small plates next to them and filled their glasses with iced tea. At a nod from Killgore he just as suddenly disappeared.
Eschewing both her spoon and the neatly sliced bread, Yew reached across the table to the remaining hunk of unsliced bread. Grabbed it, she ripped off a chunk and dunked it into the stew. Using it as a spoon, she shoveled the piece of bean and meat covered bread into her mouth.
“Carnwath is like this loaf of bread,” she fixed Killgore with a steely stare, “just waiting to be devoured.” She motioned to her plate of bread, “Some would surgically slice us up,” then she ripped off another piece of bread, “others would simply tear us apart to get what they want.” She submerged her next chuck of bread. It came out red, saturated with the rich tomato base of the stew, a few tendrils of shredded meat hanging from it. “Either way, it’s going to be covered in blood and gore.” She popped it into her mouth with a wolfish grin.
Killgore frowned, “We are a member of the Republic of the Sphere. I’m sure Legate O'Mallory has resources he can call upon to ensure the peace.”
Yew nodded, “He does and he has. Which is why I am here. I’m ready to transfer the first shipment of heavy weapons and electronics to CIE. I want you to begin retrofitting your existing stock of AgroMechs as soon as possible. I will post a company of Carnwath Militia at your main assembly site to both ensure security as well as to test the modifications before they are put into service. You’ve already had a chance to review the design modifications. Are there any issues?”
Killgore had another spoonful of Brunswick stew, followed by a sip of tea. “My engineering team is confident we can do the job. There are no blocking technical issues.” She paused, stirring her tea before taking another sip. “However, Governor Xianglo’s recently announced curfew has put my third shift in a difficult position. With travel restrictions in place, my Shift III workers cannot legally get to work and back to their families. Not only is this going to cut productivity by at least a third, it’s also going to cut the company’s already slim profit margins to practically zero. I still have to absorb the facility’s operating costs even when it’s not technically operating. To say nothing of the cost of increased security.”
Yew’s face tightened. “I can speak with the Governor. It may be possible to have your Shift III workers categorized as ‘essential’ and allowed to travel during curfew. They would be required to carry a special permit, but I suspect that is minor inconvenience when compared to the… ahh… alternative.”
Killgore smiled as she took small bit of sliced bread. “And I’m glad you mentioned security. Given you’re essentially asking CIE to become a defense contractor, I’ve got serious concerns about the safety of our people and facilities. My Chief Security Officer, Josh Freylee was in here just before you arrived. I can assure you, he shares your concerns. To be perfectly blunt, Colonel, when CIE begins manufacturing engines of war, we also become a target.”
Yew grimaced. “To some extent that is true, which is why I plan on stationing a full company of Carnwath Militia here.”
Killgore’s eyes glittered, “While I’m sure your intentions are quite sincere, Colonel, in my line of work appearances are equally, sometimes even more, important. I’ve got a fiduciary duty to our shareholders and you must understand that when an entire Militia unit motors through the front gate and sets up camp, it’s going to appear as if CIE has just been nationalized. While I can explain it away for the short-term, especially given all the recent civil unrest, I need a long term solution that will ease the fears of my Board of Directors and our investors.”
Yew fought to keep from looking annoyed, “I’m a military commander not a corporate baron. What you saying, exactly?”
Killgore smiled sweetly, taking another sip of tea. “I’m saying, Colonel, that in the long term, CIE needs to be able to provide its own security. Besides, we both know the Carnwath Militia isn’t that large of an organization. I’m sure you are already hard pressed to secure all of the locations and people that need protection. And, at least according to you, it’s only going to get worse.” She slid a noteputer across the conference table.
Yew took the offered tablet, quickly scanning it. “Armored personnel carriers, infantry fighting vehicles, reconnaissance helicopters and an assortment of support weapons and small arms. This is quite an… ambitious list. Not to mention your own small IndustrialMech force.”
“Once we’ve established our own legitimate security force, the continued presence of the militia will be a non-issue. Colonel, this benefits us all. CIE can take at least partial, if not complete, responsibility for the security of our facilities, freeing up additional resources for you, while continuing to provide modified IndustrialMechs to the militia. And, by moving into a new market, CIE can ensure its financial solvency and can continue to be a good corporate citizen.”
Yew grunted. “This was Freylee’s idea wasn’t it? Equipment issues aside, just the permitting required for a private force like this presents a huge challenge. Both the Legate and Governor will need to sign off on this, and, frankly, I’m not sure that they will.”
“You want your IndustrialMechs MODs, don’t you? Oh, and there is also the small matter of payment. While you are supplying parts and expertise, CIE is responsible for the manufacturing, assembly and fitting of the chassis. I’ve must, at a minimum, cover my costs on this venture.”
Yew grinned, “I couldn’t agree more. The extensive list of military hardware you have requested represents a significant portion of the planet’s overall defense investment. The militia must recoup those losses as soon as possible in order to maintain combat effectiveness at current levels. In fact, taking delivery of the first company of MODs will only return us to our current level of capability. With what you are proposing, the militia won’t actually see significant increase in capabilities until the third or fourth shipment.”
---
Governor Justin Xianglo had practically worn ruts in the thick pile carpet adorning his office floor as he paced incessantly, muttering, “Every crisis is an opportunity,” to himself as if it were a mantra. A knock on his office door brought him, at least temporarily, to a stop.
“Enter!”
Planetary Legate Justin O’Mallory, the highest ranking Republic official on planet, entered. Behind him followed Colonel Rebecca Yew, the commanding officer of the Carnwath Militia, the largest military force on planet. He repeatedly flicked his hand towards the chairs fronting his desk, “Sit down, Sit down!” He rubbed his hands together nervously as he slid behind his desk. “So?”
The militia colonel spoke first, “Governor, CIE has agreed, in principal, to supply us with IndustrialMech MODs. They have asked for special travel considerations for their Shift III workers so they can maintain their around-the-clock operations and they have also agreed to allow me to station a full company of militia at the plant to ensure security.”
Yew looked over at Legate O’Mallory as she continued, “However, CIE also has plans to expand and arm their own security force. As such, they have requested a significant amount of military hardware including APCs, IFVs, VTOLs and various small arms and support weapons. I estimate CIE intends to outfit a full mechanized battalion, although it will likely take them at least a year to reach full strength given the need for personnel and training. They could reach company strength, however, within three months. It seems likely, as well, their forces will field their own MODs.”
Legate O’Mallory’s face tightened as he responded to her. “Republic law absolutely forbids the creation of private armies. This is exactly the kind of militaristic opportunism Devlin Stone, and countless others, worked so tirelessly to end. And now, here on Carnwath, it rears its ugly head, threatening the people of the Republic with violence even as they try to twist, manipulate and extort their very own people. We cannot be party to this kind of wanton fear mongering. This request borders on seditious.”
O’Mallory turned back to face the governor, “Justin, we are not under attack. Nor is there even the slightest indication that some kind of invasion is imminent. Damien Redburn is Exarch and Senator Kev Rosse has already proposed the RAF be strengthened significantly. If the Republic has enemies, there is little doubt the RAF is even now ready, willing and able to defend it members and its borders. The last thing we need is to sow even more chaos by supplying a bunch of profit-seeking civilians military-grade weaponry. This goes against everything the Republic stands for.”
Xianglo wordlessly shifted his gaze to the militia colonel. Yew locked eyes with him, pausing a moment before answering his silent query. “The fundamental question at issue here is simply whether Carnwath is capable of defending itself. To the best of my knowledge, the closest RAF forces, the IX Principes Guards, are stationed on Kimball II, which is over 30 light years, or two jumps, away. Given the current HPG blackout, combined with the lack of regular interstellar traffic, our ability to contact the RAF in the event of an unexpected crisis is severely limited. In any case, the primary responsibility for the defense of the planet has always lain with the Carnwath Planetary Militia. To the extent that we can bolster our combat capabilities, it is my recommendation that we do so. The obvious, and most expeditious, way to do so is to supplement our forces with MODs.”
O’Mallory grimaced. “Let us suppose, for the sake of argument, that the Republic finds itself under attack. Who would attack Prefecture IX? The Lyran Commonwealth? The Wolves? The Rasalhague Dominion? The IX Principes Guards are stationed on Kimball II specifically to deter such aggression. And, given our position, Carnwath would almost certainly find itself in the second, if not third wave, of such an attack, giving the Republic time to respond while also allowing us time to prepare.”
O’Mallory looked a Yew, forcing a smile on his face. “I understand the Colonel’s desire to be prepared for any contingencies, any good commanding officer ought to. In fact, I support it. What I am opposed to is allowing CIE to create their own rogue military force. There is simply no need for it. If the Colonel wants MODs, CIE should provide them.”
He turned to fix the governor with his smile, “You, as governor, have the authority to simply order CIE to do so if needed. I wonder if, perhaps, the CPM could simply take delivery of stock IndustrialMechs and make the necessary modification themselves. That way, CIE can continue operations as normal and the Colonel still gets the MODs she wants.”
Xianglo’s face all but lit at the Legate’s suggestion, “Yes, yes! An excellent suggestion! We can purchase the IndustrialMechs and then the CPM can refit them. I will authorize travel credentials for CIE’s third shift workers; we pay the established stock price for the IndustrialMechs, and the CPM gets MODs. Wonderful! Wonderful!”
Yew frowned. The Legate had proposed what, on the surface, was an elegant solution. In fact, she had thought of it herself weeks ago and tasked her engineers with conducting a feasibility study. The results were discouraging to say the least. “The CPM lacks the requisite facilities, and to a lesser extent, the expertise, to refit IndustrialMechs. The conversion is a factory-level refit. The CPM does not currently field ‘Mechs of any kind. We simply don’t have the experience, and frankly, the time to develop it, in order to take on a project of this magnitude, especially with all of the civil unrest. We’re stretched thin as it is.”
O’Mallory grimaced, “Then let me offer another solution. Temporarily draft the necessary CIE personnel into the CPM. It is within the power of the governor to do this. This will also alleviate the need for special travel permits as the necessary CIE workers will effectively become members of the militia. And, to the extent you require access to additional facilities, the governor can simply order CIE to provide them.”
Governor Xianglo blanched. “You’re suggesting I draft citizens into the militia!? And, on top of that, I order CIE to turn over their facilities to the military?!
---
